


drabble dump

by holyhael



Category: Original Work, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Acid Fog, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Anniversary, Aromantic Dean, Body Worship, Bottom Dean, Coda, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demon Castiel, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s10e10 The Hunter Games, F/F, F/M, Fallen Angel Anna, Femslash, Flowers, Fluff, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid!Hannah, Hiking, Hospitalization, Human Castiel, Infidelity, Knife Kink, Living Together, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Nearly Human Castiel, Pie, Pre-Slash, Professor Dean Winchester, Rimming, Student Castiel, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Top Castiel, Waiters & Waitresses, aro!Dean, hunting girlfriends, star trek crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:23:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 87
Words: 38,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyhael/pseuds/holyhael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a dump of unconnected drabbles. each chapter title gives a short summary so you can more easily find what you're looking for. the tags are not wholly representative of the stories inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hannah/Cas masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah masturbates when Castiel falls asleep after sex.
> 
> explicit

Hannah turns over into her side with a large exhale. Next to her, Castiel also breathes heavily. The sensations he lit up in her are beginning to fade, but Hannah can still feel their effects on her body. Her skin feels like it’s tingling, her heart beats quickly and loudly, her vagina is loose and wet. She licks her lips and digs her nails into the flesh of her palm. She wants to bring that sensation of elation and climax back, but Castiel is already snoring, his human body easily succumbing to the chemicals sex released into his body that tell him to relax. Hannah doesn’t feel that urge as strongly, so she stays awake.

She folds her hands atop her stomach, fingers weaving together. Her own touch on her naked skin makes her shiver. Before she knows it, Hannah is rubbing her hands all over herself. Se revels in the sensation. Her skin feels soft in some places, rough in others, prickly sometimes too. Her stomach is smooth. Her hands are so sensitive. When she dips her fingers into her vagina, she finds herself warm and wet. Two fingers easily fit inside her, and while she pumps with her left hand, her right finds her clit and rubs it in sensational circles.

A moan escapes her lips. She lifts off the bed, writhes, thrusts. She doesn’t know how long she masturbated before she orgasms, but her happy cry wakes Castiel.

"Hannah?" he asks, confused.

"Castiel," Hannah gasps. Her muscles contract and squeeze, and before she realizes it, she reaches orgasm again. It overwhelms her, leaves her trembling and feeling used.

"I apologize," Castiel says as he hands Hannah a towel to wipe herself down with. Hannah throws him a confused glance before taking the towel. "Biological human females have little to no refractory period. I should have stayed awake for you."

Hannah shakes her head. “Nonsense.” She discards the towel off the side of the bed; she will take care of it after they wake up. Castiel wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest. He plants a kiss beneath her ear, and quickly he is asleep again. Hannah revels in his warmth and safety before following him to blissful unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108525924168/hannah-turns-over-into-her-side-with-a-large)


	2. Samandestiel hiking au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by garrisonbabe: Uhhhh Samandestiel (no surprise) long hike our something Idk I'm trying to go back to sleep

"How much further?" Dean asks from the back of the group. Samandriel has no doubt that Muriel is refraining from rolling her eyes; even though she’s leading them, she’s too kind to let her annoyance show.

"Not much," Muriel says.

Behind Samandriel, Castiel stops, making everyone else stop to turn to him, and pipes up, “Maybe we should take a break.”

"But we just took one." Muriel’s voice conveys confusion.

Samandriel looks between his boyfriends. Dean has never been a nature hiking kind of guy, but after some convincing on Cas’ and Samandriel’s part he agreed to hike Lebanon County National Park’s third longest trail. His forehead shines with sweat in the climbing sun, and his freckles appear more prominent.

The forest might be a different atmosphere than their rural farm and garden, but Castiel looks nearly as home here as he does planting azaleas and snow peas. Whenever Samandriel has looked over his shoulder to check up on him and Dean, Cas’ face had always been one of wonder, no matter if he was watching a rare butterfly go by or gazing at moss growing on the trunk of a tree.

Samandriel turns back to his twin sister, putting a hand on her upper arm. “Just a few minutes,” he promises, then walks over to the thick cedar where Dean and Cas are already resting beneath.

Unzipping his backpack, Dean retrieves the half-eaten bag of trail mix he made the day before. He pops a small handful into his mouth, leans his head back into the tree, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108527462648/uhhhh-samandestiel-no-surprise-long-hike-our)


	3. Krissy/Claire hunting accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by infernalbela: Can you so a clairekrissy fic?? Idk maybe like a summer themed fic???
> 
> this is way more angsty than she probably asked for

Claire resolutely keeps her head turned away from Krissy. She stares out the window, tries to ignore her girlfriend’s apologies in favor of watching a family gathering at the bay outside. The tide is low, and the sun is making it’s slow, summer descent to the horizon. Smoke rises from grills and premature bonfires, but Claire cannot smell the smoke through the hospital wall or over the antiseptics.

"I said a billion times I’m sorry!" Krissy exclaims behind her, close to tears. Claire wires her jaw shut. Krissy knew she’s had issues with angels ever since her dad - and pretty much her life - was taken by one when she was twelve, and yet she chose to ignore Claire’s sensitivity and basically use her as bait.

Now Claire is hooked up to monitors and saline drips. It feels like winter inside when it’s summer outside.

Claire doesn’t have to look to know Krissy is shaking her head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. Please. I’m sorry.”

If there’s one thing Krissy should know about Claire by now, it’s how far and deep her trust issues go. How can Claire be sure Krissy won’t pull the same stunt in the future, even accidentally?

The answer is simple: leave her.

But the very thought brings ache to her chest. Who is she kidding. Claire loves this woman. It feels sometimes that she always has and always will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108528373213/can-you-so-a-clairekrissy-fic-idk-maybe-like-a)


	4. Anya/Clarke space au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by spaceprincessclaire: oh oH OH could please write some anya x clarke where they're travelling through space and discovering new planets and stuff??

"Stardate 47879.5," Anya says into the recording device. She stares out her window, gazing at the stars they rocket by. "We’ve received a distress call from the Ark system and are en route to assist. With Captain Lexa’s promotion to Admiral last week, this will be my first mission as Captain of the Stargazer. I have yet to appoint a first officer, but for now, Lieutenant Commander Indra is filling in the roll. It is far from a permanent solution. Indra has expressed that though she is honored to serve as my second, she is much happier in her tactical position."

She presses the stop button on the recording device. The ship has slowed to impulse speed; they must be close to the origin of the distress call.

She exits her quarters and makes her way to the bridge. There, she’s greeted by her crew. Indra stands up from where she sat at the Captain’s chair in Anya’s absence, and she nods a greeting.

"We’re approaching the freighter. Estimated time of arrival, two minutes. Shields are at maximum"

Anya nods in acknowledgement as she takes her seat. Indra settles down at her left. The seat at Anya’s right is empty.

The freighter is badly damaged, and its life supports are failing. Anya orders all six of the ship’s living occupants to be beamed onto the Stargazer. Moments later, the freighter’s hull caves in. They arrived just in time.

The survivors are taken directly to sickbay. Anya leaves Indra with the bridge so she can meet the freighter’s crew. She needs to know who they are and if they pose her ship any danger. A security team has arrived to sickbay ahead of her, and though their phasers are in their hands, they are standing down.

"Nyko," Anya greets her medical officer. Nyko doesn’t acknowledge her presence, too busy attending to the human laying on his table. The human’s abdomen is bleeding heavily, and their skin is pale.

A human with long blonde hair stands opposite Nyko. Together, they tend to the pale human’s abdominal wound. The rest of the freighter’s crew stand around, watching everything unfold on the table. Anya orders the security team to take them to an empty quarter, and they all leave with little protest or persuasion.

"Are you your ship’s healer?" Anya asks. She looks up at the blonde and is caught by her determined eyes.

"No, I’m their Captain."

+

Somehow, the six survivors do not leave the Stargazer. Clarke, Raven, Jasper, Monty, Bellamy, and Monroe become integrated into the Stargazer’s crew. Bellamy and Monroe join Indra at tactical, Raven is the best engineer anyone’s ever seen, Jasper has fun serving drinks and socializing in 10 Forward after his abdominal wound heals.

And Clarke…

She fits everywhere.

She fits in Anya’s bed, on her bridge, by her side. She fills in cracks and deficiencies Anya never realized existed, both on her ship and in herself. They compliment each other. Clarke is reasonable, smart, and righteous. She pulls Anya back when she goes too far, and Anya pushes Clarke when she doesn’t go far enough. They make a perfect team.

Traveling through space, exploring everything out there… Anya never realized how good it would feel to share this with someone she’s as intimate with as Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108576479173/oh-oh-oh-could-please-write-some-anya-x-clarke)


	5. Krissy/Claire first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> madhousemads wanted krissyclaire

Claire hasn’t been to church since her father was taken away and her mother got lost, and she feels weird entering one now after so many years, but in some ways it feels comforting. His angels might be crappy, but she’s never doubted that God is always, in some way, watching her. And as she walks through the pews, she feels Him even more. Every step toward the altar brings her closer to Him. She feels so dirty, hasn’t prayed in so long, but He doesn’t care. He’s just glad she’s alive.

She sits down in the front. A stained glass portrait of Mary looks down at her from the wall. Claire bows her head, holds her hands together, and prays.

_Dear God, I’m sorry._

That’s as far as she gets before the doors swing open.

Claire turns around. A brunette girl, about her age, holds the doors shut behind her. Her heavy gasps are loud bouncing off the rafters. Her eyes are closed.

What is with her? Claire wonders. She stands up and tries to approach her silently, but her toe bumps against the base of the pews, and the brunette startles.

"Fuck," Claire hears her say. The curse spoken aloud in a church crawls uncomfortably over Claire’s skin. "Shit. Sorry."

"Are you okay?" Claire asks. She doesn’t look like it: her ponytail is coming apart, her jeans are stained with grass and dirt, and there’s a harried look in her eyes.

Nonetheless, the brunette tries to shake everything off and play it cool. She pushes off the doors and stands by herself. “Of course.”

A raucous knocking rises from the other side of the door. The brunette startles, and the terror in her eyes magnifies.

"What is that? Who is that?" Claire asks.

"I’m Krissy," she replies. "Those are demons. We gotta get out of here, fast."

"Demons?" No. No, it can’t be. She’s done with demons, done with the supernatural.

Krissy misunderstands her, though, and pauses to say, “Yes, demons are real. So are vampires. And basically every other creature you can think of.”

"No, I know that." Krissy throws her a bewildered look, but Claire doesn’t have time to elaborate because the demons are breaking through the door, holy ground be damned, or whatever. One of them has a hand through the door and is dragging claws through the wood. "Claire."

"What?"

"My name. It’s Claire. Thought you should know that if we’re gonna die together." Her heart is beating a million times per minute, and despite this extenuating circumstance, it beats even faster when Krissy smiles at her.

"Who said anything about dying?"

She passes Claire a serrated knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108585624403/for-madhousemads-claire-hasnt-been-to-church)


	6. Raven/Clarke cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by kierenbabe: i request some quick fluffy princess mechanic cuddling or smth, it can be really short! :))

"It’s so weird," Raven says as she lays with Clarke in her tent. It’s Raven’s first night on Earth, and even though she’s with the woman she loves, she doesn’t think she can fall asleep.

Clarke’s eyes are closed. She hums shortly before answering. “I know, but you’ll get used to it.”

She blindly finds Raven’s hand and squeezes it with her own.

The constant hum of the Ark has always been satisfying for Raven. It told her everything was working, and she knew all of the pieces and mechanics of it were working in harmony. Instead of counting sheep like a normal person to fall asleep, Raven counted gears and circuits and buttons.

But on Earth, on the ground, the sound that Raven’s lived with her whole life is gone. In it’s place is the crackle of fire, the murmur of the camp, whistling wind in the trees, Clarke’s steady breaths.

Clarke runs her hand over Raven’s bare arm, up and down, up and down, up and down. A new constant lullaby, tangible. Raven has never been interested in biology, but humans work similarly to machines. Instead of wires there are nerves. Instead of circuit boards there is a brain. Joints move like mechanical joints. The heart keeps humans going like batteries in a machine.

Raven turns onto her side so she is face to face with Clarke. The sleepy, happy smile on Clarke’s face makes Raven feel like melting.

She brings her hand up to Clarke’s chest. Through her thick breasts, she can feel her heartbeat. It’s not the Ark’s hum, but it centers Raven. She falls asleep to it’s beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108588783393/i-request-some-quick-fluffy-princess-mechanic)


	7. Dean/Cas prof!dean, student!cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by misplaced-my-grace: For the short prompt thing: professor!Dean and student!Cas BUT BUT BUT cas tops (if you do smut, i dont remember.) if no smut then just domestic

  
It’ll be Dean’s first semester of teaching. To be honest, he never thought he’d be here, but when he got his masters and Professor Milton asked him to take over her Introduction to Gas Dynamics class for a couple semesters while she was on sabbatical, he could not refuse. It’d be easy, he thought. Yeah, and grass is red. Right.

Holy fuck, he’s a professor. He’s going to stand up in a class of thirty-something people, give them labs, teach them shit. He’ll be responsible for teaching these engineering hopefuls.

His first class starts in less than ten hours. Shit, shit, shit.

He feels his heart beat in his chest, hears it in his ears. He stares at the red numbers on his alarm clock. 2:12.

"Dean?" Behind him, Castiel lifts his head off Dean’s pillow - he can never stay on his own. Dean sighs. "You’re still awake."

"Of course I am!" he whispers. "I’m freaking out over here." 2:13.

"You’ll be fine, I know it." Cas tugs Dean so he faces him instead of the clock. There’s just enough light in the bedroom for Dean to see his blue eyes staring at him earnestly. "You’re a good teacher. A fine mentor."

A fine mentor, yeah right. Dean and Cas may have found each other through a tutoring program, but look at how well that turned out. Dean was assigned Castiel; he tried to help him raise his grades after a bought of depression prevented him from excelling in class, but Cas couldn’t rebound in time, and eventually he dropped out for a purple semesters to get his shit together. Dean is half convinced the reason Cas couldn’t graduate with his major in time is because instead of tutoring, Dean and Cas spent a fuck load of time, well, fucking, but when Dean told Cas this, Cas said, “No. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It took everything to get me here. And I am happy here.”

Presently, Cas says, “Do you need help relaxing?”

"Buddy, I love you and everything, but nothing you can do is going to relax me."

"Even if I do this?"

Dean knows it’s coming, but the touch on his cock makes him jump in surprise. Cas holds him in his palm, fingers toying on his head. A small moan leaks out of Dean without his permission, and his hips buck into Cas, needing him, wanting him.

Dean was wrong: there is something Cas can do to relax him. The guy is magic, Dean swears. He didn’t think with his teaching debut on the horizon that he could turn his mind off the prospect, could remove all of his worries from his mind. But Cas… Cas is unpredictable, amazing, perfect. He knows what Dean needs when Dean himself doesn’t.

He goes agonizingly slow. Once he’s worked Dean to full hardness, Cas’ hand goes south to fondle his balls, rub Dean’s perineum, and finally massage his hole. Without lubrication, he does not insert his fingers, but he does play along the rim.

"You will be great," Cas whispers to Dean. "You can do this."

"It’s just nerves," Dean says. He licks his lips, then goes in to kiss Cas. He pours his tension into him, and Cas turns it into power to flip Dean onto his stomach.

Dean doesn’t know how he got it, but Cas has the lube and squeezes a generous amount of it on Dean’s hole. The next thing Dean knows, Cas is penetrating him with a finger; Dean squeezes around him.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean moans. No sooner have the words left his mouth is Cas slapping his cheek.

"That’s not appropriate language in the classroom," Cas growls in his ear. Dean’s cock jumps and excitement tingles through him.

"You’ve never been in a college class then," Dean retorts. Cas runs his finger around Dean’s hole, stretching him out to the point of near-pain. Oh god, he needs more. He’s such a greedy slut for Cas. "Cas."

"Yes, professor?"

Holy shit, teacher kink. Dean’s watched some student/teacher porn in his years, but he’s never seen anything like this. God, fuck. He’s already so hard it’s painful, and the idea and anticipation of role playing isn’t helping.

"Fuck. I need your cock. Fuck me, please."

"And I need to pass this exam," Cas says. He adds an second finger to Dean’s hole.

Dean pants. “It’s a rough exam,” he says.

"Don’t worry, I can handle it."

He does. Handle it, that is. He fucks Dean nice and slow, presses all his buttons. Dean can hardly recall the anxieties he had earlier because Cas fucks him so good all he can think is <i>Cas, Cas, Cas</i> among a litany of curses. When Cas finally let’s him orgasm, his mind goes completely blank.

Returning to himself, Dean takes in his pounding heart beat, the bliss lingering in his veins, Cas laying on top of him.

"Your performance was excellent," Dean gasps after a moment. Cas kisses the back of his neck. "A plus."

"I’ll take it, just so long as you do not accept bribes from anyone else."

"You better be joking," Dean says. "You think I’d really do that to you?"

Another kiss on his neck. “Of course I’m joking, Dean.”

"Well, it’s kind of hard to tell sometimes." Dean yawns. "You know I’m in this forever? I mean, if you are too?"

"Is that a marriage proposal?"

"If you want it to be. Don’t have a ring, but-"

"I don’t need one."

It’s one of the biggest moments of either of their lives, but they don’t need grandeur gestures of love. They just need each other. Loving Castiel is one of the easiest things Dean’s ever done, and as long as he has his company and support, Dean can do anything else.

Including surviving his first class as a professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108599669238/for-the-short-prompt-thing-professor-dean-and)


	8. Aro!Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by an anon: Sam gets drunk and spills the beans that Cas is in love with Dean. Dean has an epiphany & does something about it...(please and thanks)
> 
> aro!dean (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Sam reaches for another beer from the cooler. Which one he’s on, Dean has no idea, but they’re running low. It’s actually been nice to get pleasantly drunk with Sam and just talk. Not that Dean wants to make it a regular thing, but… maybe once in a while. His chest feels lighter, his shoulders aren’t as burdened. He didn’t tell Sam all of his secrets - not by a long shot; he only revealed one - but still. Having the weight of that one secret off of him feels… amazing.

It feels like his sixth beer.

God, he has to piss.

"You know," Sam starts. His voice is an octave higher, and he’s moving a lot more, gesturing and swaying. It’s been a long time since Dean’s seen this side of drunk Sam. Usually when they get drunk there’s a reason, like the apocalypse or dead girlfriends, and things get maudlin pretty fast. Tonight, it’s just because. And it’s Dean’s thirty seventh birthday.  _Happy birthday, Dean You’ve survived another year._

Dean gets so lost in his thoughts that he forgot Sam had started something. A sentence. He focuses back and says, “What?”

"No, I shouldn’t have said anything. Shit. Forget I said anything."

"I don’t even know what you said," Dean says, and Sam snorts. "But now you’ve got me wondering. Come on, little brother. Birthday present?"

"I already bought you a razor," Sam grumbles.

"Yeah, but come on."

Sam wouldn’t have caved in so fast if he wasn’t drunk. God bless the toxicity of alcohol.

"Cas loves you," Sam says, and then he burps.

Again, Dean says, “What?” Not because he didn’t hear Sam - he definitely did this time - but because he can’t comprehend it. Cas… loves him?

"He wants to kiss you. Like, he wants you to fuck him in the butt. Or maybe he wants to top you. I don’t know." Sam shrugs, all fluid-like, and takes another gulp of his beer. "I’ve known for, like, ever. And I know you feel the same - I’m not blind, Dean."

"You _know I feel the same_?” Sam’s got to be kidding him. This can’t be real. Does Sam really not know him?

Sam nods grandly. “I’m not blind, Dean,” he says again, and Dean sighs.

"Apparently you are. And deaf, too," Dean mutters. Sam asks him to repeat what he’s said, but Dean downs the last of his bottle and hightails it out of the room. He can’t believe what he’s heard.

He spilled his guts out to Sam, told him he’s aromantic or whatever, and Sam tells him he should get into a relationship with his best friend. What the fuck?

Maybe getting Sam hammered too wasn’t a good idea. All of those smart braincells of his intoxicated beyond the legal limit. Bad idea, Dean. Now you’ve gotta do it all over again. As if the first time wasn’t bad enough.

He finds himself face down in his bed, inhaling the laundry-fresh scent of his sheets. And then he realizes.

He doesn’t have to do this face-to-face at all.

Feeling smart as hell, Dean flips to a clean sheet of paper on his notepad. His hand feels wobbly drunk as he writes, but it’s still legible.

_I’m ~~aromatic~~  aromantic. Don’t want relationships. Sex=good. Everything else=bad._

_\- D_

He puts it on Sam’s nightstand, along with some aspirin and a glass of water. Sam is already passed out in his bed. Before leaving, Dean tugs a blanket out from under Sam to drape on top of him. He smiles down fondly at his stupid ass little brother, then turns the lights out, and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108603802858/sam-gets-drunk-and-spills-the-beans-that-cas-is-in)


	9. Anna/Jo, fallen!Anna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by infernalbela: If you still need prompts? I was wondering if you could do something for annajo, with a fallen angel anna

  
The motel Jo checks into is unoriginally called The Motel California. She isn’t even in California, but maybe the street the motel is on is called California? Jo doesn’t know. And she doesn’t care. But she’s so tired, and her mind is moving in circles and getting stuck on things, and  _California_  traps her like flypaper.

California, California, California. Devil’s Gate Reservoir, California.

God, fuck. She fists her hair in her hand, pulls a little until the pain becomes unbearable. She swallows the taste of blood in the back of her throat and falls onto the motel bed.

She barely has a moment to reign in composure before the roof falls in.

Immediately, she’s alert, but she’s also still feeling sluggish from, just, everything. Her dad’s - Her knife is in her boot, but every other weapon she has is in her duffle or in her jeep. Shit. There’s someone in the middle of all the rubble; Jo watches the figure as they attempt to regain footing. Whatever it is that fell from the sky grunts and groans, and it sounds female. Jo sees a flash of red between all the plasterboard and shingles.

The first coherent word Jo hears from this thing is, “Shit.”

Realizing she’s still lying prone on the bed, Jo jumps up. She reaches into her boot for her dad’s knife and holds it in front of her. It probably won’t be able to do much damage against whatever  _this_  is - hell, the thing’ll probably laugh at her pig-sticker, but it makes Jo feel better. She can practically feel her dad’s spirit when she holds it, though numerous attempts to connect him in the afterlife have failed, so Jo is probably imagining things. Still.

Sirens wail. People shout. It’s only a matter of time before they come and check what’s happening. Jo can’t let any of them get caught up in this shit. She has to be fast.

"What are you?" Jo asks, certain that the creature will understand her.

They look like a human woman, about Jo’s age, and attractive as hell. There’s something ethereal about them, though, that tells Jo they aren’t human. As if their ability to survive what must have been a massive and brutal crashing into a mediocre motel ceiling isn’t a dead giveaway.

The creature opens its mouth. “I’m Anna. I’m on the run. I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108608825223/if-you-still-need-prompts-i-was-wondering-if-you)


	10. demon!cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by infernalbela: (I love demon!cas so much omg, this fandom needs more) maybe something like Cas just turned into a demon? He talks to Dean before leaving the Winchesters or something?? Lots of angst p much
> 
> au after 9.03

Cas is human now, and vulnerable to human ails and troubles. _No, no_ , that’s not right. Cas  _was_  human, he  _was_  vulnerable to human ails and troubles. That’s the problem. He  _was_  all of that, but instead of keeping him close and home like he should have, Dean had to boot him out for Sam’s safety. It’s his fault.

It’s his fault that some fucking demon saw Cas’ soul fit for stealing. Apparently that’s a thing Abaddon is doing now to build up her army, stealing human souls and torturing them until they bend and break, until they say  _yes_.

Foreign black eyes glare at him where comforting blues used to stare.

Dean’s  _this_  close to crying. He can barely glance at his best friend without his eyes welling up.

They’ve danced a similar dance before: when Cas called himself God, when the Leviathan overwhelmed him, when Naomi  _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ -ed his head. Now Cas is a demon, and Dean feels like he’s at his wits’ end.

It’s like everything - even their own selves - is working to keep them apart. Dean just wants his best friend back, and he wants him all the time, as constant in his life as Sam is. It shouldn’t be this hard.

Cas is tied to a chair in the middle of the devil’s trap in the dungeon. Dean and Sam had to repaint the after they spilled and cleaned up Crowley’s blood a couple months ago. There’s still a faint stain of the former king of Hell’s blood on the concrete; Dean stares at it instead of at Castiel.

"I am still Cas, you know," Cas says conversationally. Dean takes a deep breath. He can’t do this. Shit. "Just a little… different."

"Tell me one thing," Dean says. It’s something Cas left out when he explained how he became a black-eyed SOB. Dean makes the mistake of locking gazes with Cas and quickly looks away. "What broke you?"

"You," Cas answers plainly. He shrugs.

Fuck. Sam better come back from the hospital’s blood bank soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108614077758/i-love-demon-cas-so-much-omg-this-fandom-needs)


	11. raven/clarke hiding from acid fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by kirargent: oooooo if you still want prompts can I have clarke/raven smut? idrc the scenario but bonus points for at least mentioning the leg brace and maybe like. body worship, that's always good.

Clarke slams the door closed behind them, keeping Raven and her safe from the acid fog that descended upon them seemingly out of nowhere. She wonders briefly if the rest of their expedition team is okay, how Camp Jaha is holding up, and then she realizes that she should be focusing on the person beside her.

Raven pants for breath, one hand resting on her chest, the other hand flexed into a fist at her side; the tips of her fingers are white with pressure from digging into her palm.

"Shit, are you okay?" Clarke asks. Sometimes it’s easy to forget Raven is disabled. Running through the forest must have been hell on her paralyzed leg and it’s brace.

Putting on a brave face, Raven mutters, “Yeah, fine.”

"You don’t look fine."

Raven doesn’t say anything as Clarke peels up her pants leg to examine her brace. Her skin is bruised down to the bone, but otherwise she looks okay.

"I’m just not used to running," Raven says. "It’s hard."

Clarke nods as if she understands, but she really doesn’t. She feels horrible for not being able to understand this about her girlfriend, that she can’t help her the way she needs. Raven at least has Wick for that, but still.

She rubs up and down Raven’s arm sympathetically.

"Sorry," she says.

"It’s fine," Raven replies. She flips her hair over her shoulder and states Clarke down with suggestive eyes. "So. We’ll be trapped here for a few hours, huh? What could we ever do with the time?"

Clarke smiles and leans in to kiss Raven.

She’ll never get tired of kissing her, even if they’re still together a hundred years from now. They just fit together somehow, like two puzzle pieces or a pair of interlocking gears. If soulmates existed, Clarke would believe Raven is one of hers, and she is one of Raven’s.

Raven’s soft lips hide teeth inclined to bite and bruise Clarke, even draw blood on occasion. They scrape against Clarke’s neck, causing her to gasp. She feels her pussy already getting wet for Raven.

"Raven!" Clarke groans, and Raven sucks harder to make sure Clarke bruises.

Raven swings her leg over Clarke’s lap so she is now straddling her, and her hands grip Clarke’s shoulders. Clarke brings her hands to Raven’s waist and holds her steady as she undulates.

"Tell me," Raven whispers. Clarke catches her eyes. "Tell me."

The words pour sincerely from Clarke. She won’t ever get tired of telling Raven how amazing she is either.

"You are phenomenal," Clarke says. Raven closes her eyes and smiles. "The best. The most amazing." Clarke punctuates each sentence with a brief, lip-locking kiss. Raven always leans in, chasing Clarke’s lips. It thrills Clarke to know what she does to Raven. "Every inch of you, from your french-fry toes to that genius brain of yours." She leans in to kiss Raven.

"Even the toes that don’t work?" Raven asks when they part. She’s insecure.

Clarke squeezes her waist and smiles. “Every inch of you,” she repeats, and kisses Raven again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108660644418/oooooo-if-you-still-want-prompts-can-i-have)


	12. dean/cas soulmates au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by anon: You said you were taking fic requests? Unoriginal I know but how about a suPER CUTE DESTIEL SOULMATE AU I'VE LITERALLY READ EVERY SINGLE ONE IN EXISTENCE I'M OBSESSED

"I’m sick of this!" Dean exclaims the moment the door slams in front of the salesperson trying to get him to buy into the same old sham as always:  _for monthly payments of $19.95, our agency will endeavor to find your compatible soulmate for you without hassle by entering your information into our database -_  Yeah fuckin’ right.

Lounging on the couch with his book, Cas suggests, “Why don’t you just list us as soulmates? Salespeople have lists that tell them who to target, which doors to knock. If you list us as soulmates, they’ll stop.”

Dean looks over at his roommate slash friend-with-benefits. Neither of them have the mark of their soulmate on them, the mark that manifests on people’s wrist when they touch their soulmate’s hand. And neither of them are really striving to find that magic person who’ll brand them forever: many people shake as many hands as they can, high five as often as possible, among other, more crazy shit, but not Dean and Cas. Dean doesn’t know about Cas, but he hates this whole soulmate thing. His mom and dad were soulmates - met at a Fourth of July picnic in Lawrence - but their partnership was full of trouble, and even though they fought a lot, they could not separate.

The idea of being chained to one person for his whole life whether he can stand them or not is unthinkable.

Cas inserts a finger to hold his place in his book and meets Dean’s eyes. “There’s a significant tax break for soulmates, too. I think it increased last year during the elections.”

"Cas, you’re talking about fraud," Dean says, eyebrows raised.

Cas shrugs and goes back to his book. Dean is left to think, and think, and think.

Does he like Cas? Hell yes. They’ve been slumming it together for a few years now, and they have sex on the couch whenever they feel like it. It’s not a steady relationship like the one Sam’s building with Jess and Ruby - the idea of soulmates may be garbage, but Sam’s got two? lucky guy - but Dean can honestly say it’s the best he’s been in. And he’s been in some amazing ones: Cassie during their senior year of high school, Lisa for a few weeks while he was on a “road trip”, Aaron before he found his soulmate in some giant, and Anna until they realized they were just friends, to name a few.

 _Why not?_  Dean thinks. Why not commit fraud with his best friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108664324168/you-said-you-were-taking-fic-requests-unoriginal)


	13. claire/punk!angel post 10.10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire walks, and she meets a punk angel.

  
One foot in front of the other. Claire doesn’t have any clue where she’s going, but it seems like her feet have an idea. They walk on, and walk, and walk, and walk. Several people stop to offer her a ride, including some people who appeared well-meaning, but Claire refuses. She walks.

The sun is perched on the horizon and the sky is layered with color when Claire walks into a park. There are two people there: a toddler and an older teenager. Claire meets the teenager’s gaze and gives her an acknowledging nod. The teenager’s lips quirk into a smile, one that makes Claire think  _Oh, wow._ She turns her head, letting her hair fall around her and hopefully hide the blush that’s burning on her cheeks. She’s a sucker for attractive, probably-bad-for-her punk teens, and the fire in this one’s eyes rings her in.

The teenager jerks their head up. “Hey. Claire, right?”

Claire freezes. Her infatuation immediately becomes caution. She doesn’t know a lot about Things That Go Bump in the Night, but she knows enough to know that if some stranger in a strange place is on first-name basis with her that she needs to get the fuck out. She should probably call Castiel. She starts to backtrack, starts to pull her phone out, when the teenager calls out.

“Oh, hey! It’s all right.” Their hands are raised. “I know Castiel.”

Out of everything they could have said, Claire was not expecting that. She gasps.

“You’re an angel?” she asks incredulously. Claire was under the impression that most angels were like Cas: weird doofuses with sticks up their asses. But this one obviously has more of a personality, and it’s not just evident from the way they’re dressed. Even the way this angel moves, so fluidly and, fuck,  _human_.

The angel grins at her. “Stormy. Nice to meet you.”

They hold out their hand. Claire is hesitant to take it, but she does.

“Is that short for something else?” Claire asks. She pulls her hand back and puts it in her pocket. She never knows what to do with her hands when she’s around attractive people. Even if those people happen to be angels, apparently.

“Yeah.” Stormy nods but doesn’t offer their full name. “What’re you doing here?”

Claire snorts. Wouldn’t she like to know? “Just walking. Trying to figure out where to go next, what to do.” She shrugs. “What’s an angel doing in a park?”

“Is that a line?” Stormy asks, and Claire can’t believe it. Her ears burn. Stormy laughs, a throaty sound. “No, it’s angel business. Even angels have jobs, you know?”

“And yours is to play in a park?”

“Among other things.” Stormy winks. God, fuck. Claire is so in trouble, and not the kind of trouble she’s become used to lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108705777913/one-foot-in-front-of-the-other-claire-doesnt)


	14. clarke/octavia fluffy fowershop au part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by anon: i request some quick fluffy clarktavia / clarke x octavia pretty pleeeaaasseeee

Clarke clenches her jaw and caves in to the desire to glance at the clock. 4:27; it’s been two minutes since she last looked at the time. Holy crap. Octavia will be here any minute now. Clarke really isn’t ready for this, but it’s now or never. It’s now.

Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon for the last few months, a young woman has been visiting Ark Angel’s Flowers, though she doesn’t buy a thing. Mostly she just stared into the display windows at the bouquets inside, but one day she came in for a respite from the rain, and she’s come

inside every day since then.

Her name is Octavia Blake. She’s studying botany at the local university, and has a part time job at the martial arts school up the street. With college and basic living expenses, she’s barely keeping her head above water, otherwise she’d buy a bouquet. She didn’t tell Clarke which one she wants most, but it’s not hard to take a guess.

This morning, Clarke selected their biggest, most vibrant, and flawless orchids and lilies. She arranged them with a nearly obsessive care, until her friend and coworker Wells reminded her not to overdo anything and ruin everything.

The bouquet, complete with a card with Clarke’s number on it and a large bow, now sits on the front desk. Clarke knows Octavia will love it, but she still feels so nervous. 4:29.

The chime on the door rings out, snapping Clarke’s stare-down with the clock. Octavia rushes inside. She already has a smile on her face for Clarke, and the tension that’s kept Clarke high-strung all day melts away seeing that smile.

"Hi," she greets breathlessly.

"Hey," Octavia says. Her eyes slide to the right and widen when she takes in the orchid and lily bouquet. "Wow." She delicately sniffs an orchid. "Beautiful. Special order?"

"You could say that." Clarke smirks. She leans across the counter to tap the card - she checked at least a dozen times to make sure it was facing out. Curious, Octavia lifts the card.

Bee mine. It’s cheesy, but Clarke doesn’t think Octavia minds cheesy. When she reads through the note, Octavia looks astonished.

"Clarke! Is this for real? Are you for real?"

"One hundred percent." She beams while Octavia can’t tear her eyes off of the bouquet. Clarke isn’t usually one for rambling to fill in silences, but she finds herself doing it here. "It’s by no means an obligation. If you’re not into me, that’s fine, but take the flowers anyway. I just want-"

The words are snatched from her lips with a kiss. Octavia has her shirt fisted in her hand to pull her across the counter, and Clarke raises her hands to cup Octavia’s cheeks. The kiss ends mutually, and all they can do is stare at each other and breathe, and since Clarke’s brain short circuited she goes back to her sentence, the last thing she knew before the kiss. “- you to be happy.”

Octavia smiles. “I’m happy with you. I’ll take both, you and the flowers. And the date.”

"Awesome," Clarke says, and Octavia’s smile grows larger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108854726423/i-request-some-quick-fluffy-clarktavia-clarke-x)


	15. clarke/octavia fluffy fowershop au part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by anon: your fanfic on clarktavia just made me a new shipper ok. write more pls. :')

It just makes sense for them to move in together into an apartment nearly equidistant from the university and Ark Angel’s Flowers. It’s barely larger than a studio apartment. The bathroom door doesn’t close properly, paint is peeling off the walls, and their neighbor’s sanity is questionable. But it’s  _theirs_.

When Clarke pushes the door open, Octavia is sitting on the floor, painting her toe nails. She grins at Clarke, and preens when Clarke tousles her hair.

"Hey," Clarke says.

"Hey, yourself," Octavia says. "Are those roses?"

"Of course." Clarke’s taken to bringing home flowers that are too old, small, or otherwise imperfect to be sold at the shop; bouquets in various stages of wilt brighten the place more than the weak sunlight through their windows and mask the scent of the alley that wafts in.

This time she’s taken home a bunch of roses. She grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it with water, and places the flowers in. Maybe they should stop by the thrift store one day and buy actual flower vases so they don’t use - and run out of - their drinking glasses.

Another day. Definitely.

Clarke joins Octavia on the ground, sitting with her knees pulled up and her back against a shelf. The nail polish Octavia is applying is a deep blue with subtle sparkles. “Pretty,” she says, settling her chin on the tops of her knees.

Octavia smiles. “Wanna be twinsies?” Her toes wiggle, and Clarke chuckles.

"Sure," she says. She tears her boots and socks off. Thankfully, the nail polish overwhelms the smell of her nasty feet. She can’t wiggle her toes the way Octavia can, but she tries, and it makes Octavia laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108978071573/your-fanfic-on-clarktavia-just-made-me-a-new)


	16. samandestiel domestic au w/ engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted july 30th 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/56951916618/on-their-anniversary-castiel-buys-two-small)

on their anniversary, castiel buys two small bouquets of flowers, lilacs for samandriel and orchids for dean. hidden in each bouquet is a small ring upheld by a thin, green wire. he waits, anxiously, for dean and samandriel to come home. he prepares burgers for dinner and bakes a pie for dessert. and he waits.

“hey, honey,” dean greets. his hands roam over castiel’s hips and draw him in for a kiss. samandriel slides his hand over deans and gives castiel a kiss as well.

“did you have a good day?”

castiel nods, butterflies in his stomach. “i made burgers.“

"sweet.” they each kiss him one more time before making their way to the dining room where the food has been laid out and where the bouquets stand proudly in their vases.

“it’s just an anniversary,” dean says. “you didn’t have to go all out with the flowers.“

"they’re sweet, castiel,” samandriel says. “thank you.“

"you’re welcome. please, sit down.”

when they’re seated, they have a better view of the flowers. samandriel, more attentive than dean, notices the flash of silver among the green immediately. “castiel.“

"what is it, angel?” dean asks. he’s too distracted by the burger on his plate to notice the ring in his flowers, but castiel expected as much.

“there’s a ring in the flowers.” samandriel slides his gaze away from the bouquet to look at castiel. “cas…"

dean finally takes in his own bouquet, eyes widening when he spies the ring. “shit, cas.“

"i know we can’t exactly wed each other,” castiel says, “but i was hoping that…" shit, he should have talked with them about it before. no matter that they’ve been together for ten years, he should have asked if they wanted a mark of their relationship of not. “if you’d like…"

samandriel surprises him by leaning across the corner of the table to kiss him, his hand cupping his cheek. castiel leans into the warm touch.

“yes, of course, castiel.”

“dean?”

dean’s response is just as fervent as samandriel’s. he smirks toward the end of their kiss. “you think i’d say no to making your hot asses mine ‘til death do we part?“

samandriel shivers.

castiel slides samandriel’s ring onto his finger, and samandriel does the same for dean. that only leaves one person.

"we need to get you a ring,” samandriel marks with a frown. “we can go out tomorrow-“

"wait!” dean pulls at the ring on his right hand, the ring his mother mary gave him before she passed. “take this.“

samandriel and castiel both turn to him with awe. “really?” castiel asks.

“really.” dean puts the ring on castiel’s finger and laces their hands together. the three of them make a misshapen triangle, but they’re happy.


	17. original fiction (but also spn angels fic i guess)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted march 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/45514213969/the-day-we-become-stars-the-universe-is-the)
> 
> The Day We Became Stars

The day we become stars, the universe is the brightest thing in our eyes. It blooms with silver energy born from a love so unshakable and raw that our being thrums with jealousy, longing for even a fraction of this faith to be ours to hold, possess, conquer all the worlds over with.

He looks down at us with warmth in His eyes. “You’re finally awake,” He murmurs, a massive hand flying down to caress us. Our eyes close as we inhaled the pure strength and grace that makes up His existence. It is such an intense thing.

“Hush now,” He coos down at us, and like a meteor that follows the invisible currents of the inky dark space outside of our fold in creation, we follow without a doubt, obeisant. “You need mending.”

We become cold except in the light of His love and judgement. We become without want except of His discipline.

We are sinuous, flowing as loosely, tightly, pliably as He wishes.

We are never alone. We are in love.

We are Love incarnate, and when He bends down to grace us with the power of all the worlds He looks at us as if we were His only children.

“You will be the most loved on the planet,” He says. His words are mandates.

We are free to fly. The world is ours.

“This is my new creation,” He tells us as He holds out a dormant figure in the palm of His hand. We remember feeling that palm graze our existence, and if we hadn’t been mended to be intolerant of the capacity of jealousy for another cognizant creature, we might have become defective, lost beyond repair.

“It is called a Human,” He says. “Love them as you love me.”

For the first time in our existence, we have a voice. There is one who separated from our continuity. “But how can we love such an ugly thing?” the voice asked.

It is the first question He has been asked. The colors of the universe shift perceivably to a shade capable of anger righteous enough to burn holes out of the sun, into the fabric of time itself, though neither is an invention we are concerned for. His eyes narrow on the one of us who had been able to speak. None of us should be able to become discriminated.

“What is this?” He thunders. “Do you need mending again?”

His omnipresent voice rouses the human in His hand. It blinks its small eye and opens its small mouth. How curious that it only has one of each.

We nod, though there is resistance we are unused to. Someone within our mission stages a rebellion that riots the walls of a cage we didn’t know permeated our energy. The cage rattles with every pound against its wrought intention.

“That is enough!” His voice echoes throughout the universe and shatters the fragile creature in His palm. Without mercy, He closes His hand around His creation, and within our fold there is the unheard of sound of rejoice. Red, like His animosity, seeps through His fingers. “You must be mended.”

The patches within us are sewn shut, repaired with the burning energy of His anger. We relish the ache it gives us, for we have allowed ourselves to become corrupt. This is our punishment.

“I shall make a new human,” He says. “And he shall be the most beautiful creature in any known volume.”

True to His word, soon He returns with an entity so radiant it seems to out-glow the sun.

“You shall love him unconditionally,” He intones, His voice is laced with a cautionary tale.

From within us, another voice rises, but this time He does not strike upon us or mend that which needs repair. He listens as we have listened to Him.

“I shall,” the voice avows.

The universe is a dazzling thing. It is the brightest it had ever been before.

This is only the beginning.


	18. kinky samandestiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> samandestiel pwp featuring panties, knifeplay, asphyxiation, marking, orgasm denial, bondage, gags, dom!cas, sub!samandriel, and sub!dean. maybe some other things but probably not, i think i got eveything. idk i didn’t really read this through but hopefully it’s okay anyway.
> 
> originally posted august 2013 on [](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/59070375284/samandestiel-pwp-featuring-panties-knifeplay)

“it’s not going to suck itself, dean,” says castiel. with the knife in his hands, he pulls down the fabric of samandriel’s panties even further. for his part, samandriel just whimpers as the tip of the blade skims against his oversensitive skin and leaves a thin trail of red but does not pierce. through his watering eyes, he implores for dean. the tie stuffed into his mouth muffles any audible plea, and his hands are tied behind him so he can’t reach out for dean either.

dean is dressed similarly to samandriel, though his panties are pink instead of blue, and his mouth is free of obstruction. once he hears castiel’s warning tone, he nods and shuffles on his knees to get closer to samandriel. once he’s within distance, dean crouches down low to the floor so samandriel can see every scratch down his back, and takes the head of samandriel’s dick into his mouth.

he would cry out if he weren’t gagged. samandriel arches his spine and tries to thrust into dean’s mouth, but castiel is quick to hold him back, the flat side of the knife pressing into his hip, the tip sinking into the flesh of his thigh but still not breaking skin; samandriel feels castiel’s cock against the side of his head, and he can see it in his peripheral vision. if only it was closer, if only he wasn’t gagged and he could take it only his mouth. his mouth waters thinking about it, ignoring the knife as it slides up his abdomen.

“stay still and let dean do the work,” castiel orders.

samandriel nods. the tip of the blade circles his nipple and cuts across the hardened bud, causing him to inhale sharply.

“good boy,” castiel murmurs, voice low and silky, dangerous. the knife is put to the side. one hand strokes beneath samandriel’s jaw. samandriel tries not to whine as the hand becomes increasingly more pressing and as dean’s lavishing of his cock goes deeper and deeper. soon, he is gasping for breath, eyes wild, body shaking. the urge to come feels stronger than the urge to breathe, but he knows he’s not allowed the former until he has castiel’s benediction. it’ll only take one, light kiss to his brow, the crown of his head, his lips, and the whisper breathed against his skin -  _“you’re ready now, samandriel”_  - and he’ll be shooting into dean’s hungry mouth.

dean, who’s working magic on his cock, whose tongue lavishes every inch of the shaft, whose gag reflex seems to be nonexistent. he takes the entirety of samandriel’s cock without trouble, spit and precome dribbling out of his mouth and staining the carpet, eyes fluttering closed, moaning. the moans shiver up samandriel’s spine, and he has a hard time staying still again.

“do you think you’re ready now, samandriel?” castiel asks, his voice directly in samandriel’s ear as he crouches down. the hand on his throat loosens. samandriel can feel the wet tip of his cock coating his back in precome.

desperately, samandriel nods. he wants to beg and grovel, but he can’t. instead, he twists around to plead to castiel with his eyes. “ _please please please_ ,” he wants to cry as dean takes advantage of samandriel’s thrusted hips.

“first,” castiel snarls as he repositions samandriel the way he’d been. the distinct sound of castiel jacking off fills samandriel’s ears. deliberately, the head is dragged across his back again. “i’m going to paint you white. and dean is going to lick it off.”

dean’s enthusiastic moan vibrates through samandriel’s entire being. he opens his eyes to lock on dean’s hungry, dark ones as dean pulls off to run his tongue from the root of samandriel’s cock to the very tip.

“then you can come,” castiel finished. his breath hitches once, twice. it takes several seconds for him to regain composure enough to levelly ask, “is that good?”

samandriel nods again, though his cock is aching for release now. dean’s waiting mouth it right there, waiting to take it, but he can’t give and it’s frustrating.

“you are good,” castiel growls into his ear. wet lips attach to his earlobe at pull, suck. “so good.”

samandriel whines around the soaking tie, and his arms attempt to jerk free of their bondage so he can properly touch castiel. as it is, the ropes are tight, though not enough to cut off his circulation, and there’s no yield.

“ah, ah,” castiel warns. the knife returns to worm beneath his panties and pierce the thick flesh of his ass. samandriel’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest as the tip of the blade finds his hole. though he trusts castiel with all of his being, his instincts still tell him to jump away from the sharp intrusion and into dean’s mouth, but castiel only follows him. “i said no moving, boy,” castiel reminds him, and samandriel takes deep breathes to force himself to relax. tears fall out of his eyes. “good.” he is rewarded with a kiss to the back of the neck, long and sucking. the blade is slowly removed from his entrance and put to the side again. “i’m almost done with you.”

the only thing he can do is nod.

when castiel said almost, he really wasn’t kidding. it only takes a few more moments before castiel lets out a moan and his hot come splatters across samandriel’s back in long stripes. samandriel stays very still until the last is milked out on him, barely daring to breathe.

“come, dean,” castiel says. dean pulls off samandriel’s cock and wobbles to meet castiel. samandriel can still see him at the corner of his eyes. “do i have to remind you to get every last drop?”

“no,” dean says, breathless.

a large hand pushes samandriel down, face pressed into the carpet. his heartbeat is so loud.

“lick,” castiel says. and dean does.

his tongue is hot, wet, and liberal on samandriel’s back. even where there is no come, dean still licks. soon samandriel’s back is cool from the drying moisture, free of come. when dean sits back, castiel’s hand runs down samandriel’s spine, making him shiver.

“good job, dean.” samandriel hears them kiss, which only makes his cock ache more if that is possible. the idea of dean transferring some of samandriel’s come to castiel makes him whine, but samandriel is disregarded for dean’s orgasm. when samandriel arches up and rolls his head forward, he can see beyond the swell of his ass castiel jerking dean off and kissing his slick lips.

when dean comes, it is with a loud cry. the semen coats castiel’s hand and abdomen.

as dean cools down, castiel returns to samandriel. he pushes the panties out of the way to finger samandriel open with the same hand that jerked dean off. the sticky come feels slightly warm as it acts as lubricant for one of castiel’s fingers.

“you’re so patient,” castiel marvels. it doesn’t take long for him to find samandriel’s prostate, and when he does, more tears well up in samandriel’s eyes. “you can come,” castiel allows, and that’s all it takes. samandriel comes so hard his vision turns white and he swears his heart stops. as he returns to himself, castiel is replacing the panties properly and turning samandriel onto his back.

“thank you, samandriel,” castiel says. he lifts him into his arms to gently deposit him onto the bed, for which samandriel is grateful. he would have fallen asleep on the floor he is so tired, but the bed is by far more comfortable. dean is placed beside him after a moment, and castiel is on the end, arms wrapped around his boys. they fall asleep and don’t wake until well after noon.


	19. domestic samandestiel w/ pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted august 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/57224712227/cas-and-alfie-are-no-culinary-masters-but-they)

cas and alfie are no culinary masters, but they try to bake a pie anyway because dean’s been having a rough time lately, and he deserves a warm, gooey, homemade pie. the recipe is taken from a book dean patched together of his mother’s favorite fares; it’s one dean’s made many times, and it never fails to make the crinkles around his eyes appear.

 

when taste testing their filling, it isn’t sweet enough, so they add more sugar. too much sugar, really. to combat that, they dice more apples and throw more cinnamon in, and that helps a lot. neither cas nor alfie know quite what the crust is supposed to taste like, but they decide it seems pretty decent, so they mold it around their pie plate, fill it with batter, and blanket that with another layer of batter. penciled in on the recipe page, it says to sprinkle cinnamon on top of the pie before placing it in the oven; alfie is fairly sure cas adds too much cinnamon, and he tries to dust it off despite the other’s surety that it would be fine. so they put the pie in the oven, and they wait.

by the time the timer goes off, the enticing aroma of apple pie is thick in the air. there are smiles on their lips as they open the oven door and look at their pie.

“it looks perfect,” alfie says.

“the instructions say to pierce the center with a knife,” says cas. “if the knife comes away clean, the pie is finished. if it’s not, it should stay in the oven for another ten minutes.”

alfie draws a knife out from the cutlery drawer and does as instructed. some of the apple filling remains on the knife when it’s pulled out, so the door is closed again and cas sets the timer to go off ten minutes later.

this time when the timer goes off, something is wrong.

“it smells weird,” alfie comments.

cas’ eyebrows are furrowed and he’s frowning. “maybe it shouldn’t have stayed in for so long.”

they pull it out and place it on top of the stove. much of the edge of the crust is charred black, and much of the rest is dark, not golden like dean’s pies. however, the knife does come away clean this time when they poke the pie. it’s a small victory, but not enough of one.

morosely, cas and alfie stare at their creation.

“do we have time to make another?”

cas consults his watch. “dean’s due home any minute.”

alfie’s frown deepens. “maybe if we just scrape off the charred pieces.”

“we can do that. it might look funny, though.”

alfie shrugs. “that’s better than ruined, though, right?”

castiel supposes he’s right, and they start picking off the blackened crust.

the last of the blackened crust is being swept into the trash bin when dean comes home.

“honeys, i’m home!” he announces. “what smells so good?”

“come in the kitchen and find out,” alfie calls back. he touches a small kiss to cas’ cheek and smiles at him before dean comes around.

when dean turns the corner, his eyes immediately zero in on the pie, and then he looks at cas and alfie incredulously. “you made pie?”

they nod in unison. “it burned a little in the oven.”

“doesn’t matter.” dean steps forward and engulf them both in a warm hug. cas and alfie both wrap an arm around dean’s waist, and their fingers twine together at his spine. “it means a lot. thanks, guys.”

“it’s no problem, dean,” cas says. his thumb is rubbing against alfie’s knuckle. “we love you, dean.”

alfie smiles, and he tries to press even closer to his partners, his soulmates. “we do.”

they each receive a kiss, just a quick pull and tug of lips; there’ll be more for later, of course. for now, there is pie. cas grabs the plates, dean slices the pie, and alfie clears the kitchen table so they can sit down and eat.

no one ever thought they could love each other more than they had yesterday, but it turns out they can, and they will.


	20. michaeladam + rimming and stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/61550652890/it-feels-like-it-takes-hours-before-michael) in september 2013

it feels like it takes hours before michael finally slides his fingers out of adam’s ass and slaps him gently on the cheeks. “think you’re ready now,” michael whispers in his ear, causing a shiver to shake adam’s body.

“i’ve been ready for the past hour,” adam growls back, and michael laughs gently.

“you aren’t ready until i say you are,” he says. “and just for that-”

his fingers find their way back inside of the loose, pink hole. adam groans and balls the sheets in his fists in frustration.

“-i think a little more work is in order.”

it’s borderline cruel, and adam almost says as much, but then michael is sinking down onto his knees, face partially obscured by adam’s cock as he stares down his own naked body to his boyfriend. adam knows, in a sort of out-of-body surreal way, what’s about to happen, but that doesn’t mean that at the first touch of tongue to his hole he doesn’t shout in surprise.

“holy shit, mikey!” adam gasps. his back arches against the mattress; michael holds his hips in place so he has nowhere to go. “fuck fuck fuck.”

adam can’t see the smile that crawls across michael’s face, but he can feel it as it brushes his inner thigh. “indeed.”

he feels michael’s tongue as it becomes a firm point to fuck into his stretched hole. it might be smaller than his fingers, but somehow michael’s tongue pushes adam’s buttons in a way that they haven’t been before. he gasps and tries to stay in control of his urge to come. michael certainly isn’t making it easy with the way he’s practically frenching the hole between adam’s legs. precome drips from adam’s cock at an almost alarming rate, which michael sees and hums his appreciation for. the low noise seems to vibrate adam from his tailbone to his brain and beyond.

“michael, michael!” shouts adam. “if you don’t stop that right now, i’m going to-”

“what?” michael asks. “come? let’s see it, pretty boy.” he squeezes adam’s thigh from where his hands traveled to keep adam still. “come for me. just from this.” he lowers his tongue to lap at adam’s hole again, and it’s a good thing michael’s hold on him is steady or else they’d both be flying. “just.” another lick. “from.” this lick is drawn out, agonizing. adam screws his eyes tight. “this.” this time, michael drops an open-mouthed kiss to adam’s entrance, and adam can’t take it any longer. his hand flies down to grab his cock, and after only a few pulls, relief drains him of breath and seed. michael, though, doesn’t seem keen on retreating; he hardly lets adam’s orgasm to run its course before he’s back inside, this time with fingers as well as his tongue.

“god damn it, michael,” adam exhales.

“i’m not finished yet, adam,” michael reminds him pointedly. “i still need to fill your ass with my come.”

adam doesn’t need to be a psychic to know his ass is going to be very sore in the morning. he shakes with anticipation and thinks, as the crown of michael’s cock nudges him, that this is the closest to heaven as his memories serve.


	21. jolucifer + 2 smut drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. originally posted in september 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/61467888917/lucifers-hands-are-warm-as-they-travel-down-jos)
> 
> 2\. originally posted in september 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/60484594107/spnspankbank-windriel-submitted-the) for spnspankbank

Lucifer’s hands are warm as they travel down Jo’s cheek, the knuckles grazing lightly against her blushing skin. The touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake, no matter that Lucifer says he burns like ice does. And yet that fire makes Jo shiver, so perhaps he is as cold as he claims.

As she kneels before him, Jo finds her gaze fixed on his eyes, even though he’s using one hand to push down his trousers to reveal his cock. His eyes have such a captivating color and intensity to them that it’s difficult to look away.

Jo opens her mouth obediently when his cock traces along the seam of her lips. The thick member slides into her mouth as if it’s a second home. When he begins to go in deeper, Lucifer coaxes Jo’s mouth further open with a gentle thumb to her jaw. Jo reflexively swallows, and her eyes begin to water when her throat is not able to clear the obstruction - a natural defense of the body. She tightens her eyes and tries to blink away the wetness.

“It’s okay, princess,” Lucifer murmurs. His thumb reaches from her jawbone to the tear threatening to fall from the corner of her eye. “I’ve got you. You’re doing brilliantly.”

The only way Jo can affirm she understands his words is to begin bobbing her head. Lucifer makes a startled moan, and his head tips back, though not far enough that Jo can’t see the black of his pupils consuming his irises. His chest heaves up and down and stutters as Jo varies the force and speed of her sucking. When she reaches the tip of Lucifer’s cock, she likes to caress the head with her tongue, cradle it. This makes Lucifer grab her hair by her temples and pull nearly to the point of pain, but Lucifer would never hurt Jo.

“Not in a million years,” he promised emphatically in the early days of their relationship. “Or even a billion. A trillion. Unless you’d like me to, but let me tell you that I’d rather not. I don’t want you to ever be in pain if I can help it.”

Jo knows from the twitching of the cock in her mouth that Lucifer is about to come. She fondles his balls and sucks tightly to give him permission to release into her mouth. The come that coats her tongue is warm; she swallows it down and cleans up Lucifer’s cock as he finishes and begins to withdraw.

“It’s my turn, now,” Lucifer says, dropping to Jo’s level. He pushes her flat onto the ground with a biting, passionate kiss and spreads her legs. “Princess.”

 

+

 

The best part about him, Jo thinks as coherently as she can, is his tongue.

Oh,  _God,_  his tongue.

It is selfish and selfless at the same time. Greedy, malevolent, good, tempestuous. All it takes is a quick smile where his lips are parted, his teeth open to allow the tip through to lick along his incisors and canines, his lips. Jo is instantly hooked, literally and figuratively. No matter what they’re doing, everything is dropped and Jo finds herself in the safe cage of his arms. He wrestles her where he needs her, and he licks and licks and licks.

The second best thing, Jo thinks as preliminary shudders quake through her, is his ability not to breathe.

He still does, of course, but there is no need to. Just the same as he doesn’t need to eat, and yet here he is.

He licks around his mouth when she is satisfied - he never will be, he claims, but he only wants to be good to her - that magic tongue causing Jo to shudder again. It makes Lucifer grin as he leans in to kiss her. His tongue slides against hers and explores her mouth as if he hasn’t before, the same enthusiasm as he eats her out with.

The third best thing, Jo knows, is that he loves her.

(Well, perhaps the order is screwed up, but Lucifer understands. He knows.)


	22. jimmycas + psych homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> twincest!!
> 
> originally posted sept 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/61160397729/jimmy-yes-cas-cas-frowns-for-a-moment-at)

“jimmy?”

“yes, cas?”

cas frowns for a moment at his schoolwork before continuing. “how would you classify our relationship?”

jimmy frowns as well, confusion pulling his eyebrows together.

“honestly, cas, i don’t see how. why?”

“in health class we’re going over the different types of relationships a person has in their life,” cas answers. “there’s familial, which includes parental, and sibling. there’s platonic relationships, romantic relationships…. i’m just having a hard time figuring out where we fall on this outline.”

jimmy looks down at the thin pages of the textbook in front of cas’ schoolwork, still frowning, but he starts to smile when he catches sight of a mother and her son as he prepares to go to his first day of school, as the caption says. “well, we can cross this off the list,” he says. his eyes crinkle as he smiles; the lines only deepen when cas returns the smile. after a breath, jimmy gets more serious. “does it really matter, cas?”

cas shakes his head, lips in a considering pout. “i suppose not. but there’s no way i’m going to be able to fill out this chart truthfully.”

jimmy gazes on the other side of the textbook to see a worksheet. there are several ovals, each with a title,  _parental, sibling, romantic, platonic,_ etc. the top- and leftmost circle is the only one that has been written in, their parents’ names penned in cas’ messy scrawl.

with a sly look, jimmy extends his hand and points at the oval beside the parental one. “how about here….” he lets his finger drag to the oval directly below that. “and here.”

cas looks up at jimmy at that. “mr brett is going to wonder why your name is listed under both sibling and romantic,” cas says.

“pick which box you think i fit the best in,” jimmy suggests with a shrug.

“but you’re both, equally.” cas’ frown is back in full force.

“how about you put jimmy as your brother and james as your boyfriend?”

at this suggestion, cas’ eyebrows shoot up, and there’s more light in his eyes. “perhaps i can call you james tonight.”

jimmy grins. “i’d like that.”

he brings his twin brother in for kiss that cas keeps trying to lengthen and deepen, but jimmy won’t let that happen. using his hand on cas’ jaw, jimmy draws them apart. cas’ eyes are on his lips.

“get your homework done,” jimmy says.

“okay… james.”

a shiver crawls up his spine, and he has to force himself to let go of cas’ cheek.

“hurry up; i’m getting hard already.”

cas laughs as jimmy retreats. “if you say so, james.”


	23. deankrissy + post-hunt impala sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted in september of 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/60139544782/winchambers-i-deleted-the-first-part-because-i)

The night air felt cool against his flushed cheeks, but he wasn’t able to fully appreciate the feeling, as Krissy was pushing him up against the Impala, which was a much better feeling, really. Her arms wound up to his shoulders and around his neck so she could drag him down into a firm, beautiful kiss. Dean could taste Krissy’s gloss and smile on those soft, warm lips, and suddenly that was all the world was made of, not monsters or blood: this beautiful woman and her lips. His hands automatically found their way to the curve of her waist to bring her closer.

It felt like all of time had passed when Krissy pulled him back. Her lips were shiny, and they pulled back to allow her to speak.

“Gonna invite me in, big boy?” she asked, nodding her head at the Impala.

“Sorry, got distracted.” Dean felt his cheeks heat up as he dug around his pockets for the keys. Once he got them and opened the doors, Krissy was on him again and pushing him inside. Dean went willingly, and he laid on his back while Krissy got herself situation right on top of his very interested cock.

“I think you’re wearing a little too much clothes, what do you think?” she asked. Her hand ran up Dean’s stomach and lifted his shirt up. “Nice muscles, by the way.”

“I work out,” Dean said cockily.

“I can tell,” Krissy said. She began to grind down on Dean’s clothed cock, which was now very hard, and he really hated his jeans at the moment. Krissy seemed to read his mind, as she scooted back to allow her hands access to the button and zipper. “Let’s see what you’ve got in here. I’m sure it’ll make a girl like me happy.”

Dean tried to remain still as Krissy tantalizingly slowly pulled the garments off of him. She seemed to enjoy watching him squirm and buck into her barely-there touches.

When finally the underpants were shimmied to his knees and he was free, Krissy looked up from his cock to his eyes.

“That’ll do," she said, leaning down to kiss him again. Her hair fell in a curtain on the right side of Dean’s face and pooled onto the car seat. Dean lost himself in the movement of their lips and didn’t even notice that Krissy had tore open a condom until it was suddenly being rolled onto him. Krissy quieted his surprise with her mouth and whispered soft noises to him as she ran her hand down his dick until he was fully encased.

"That good?”

Dean nodded. His hand began to wander beneath her shirt to rub her soft stomach as she worked her jeans off. It took a bit of maneuvering, and Dean had to put his hands down for a moment, but finally Krissy was able to throw her jeans up in the front seat, as well as her shirt.

Beneath her clothes, Krissy was wearing dark blue cotton panties with a little bit of lace trim; her bra was similar in design and had a small bow between the two cups. Dean’s mouth watered as he reached up to cup each breast in his hand.

“Your breasts are perfect,” Dean said. They were small and firm, and when he squeezed them, Krissy ground serenely onto his dick.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she gasped, and she rutted against Dean’s dick again.

“Bet it’ll feel even better if you weren’t wearing these,” Dean said, one hand dropping to hook around her panties.

“You’re right,” agreed Krissy. She towered over Dean, on her knees, as she pulled the panties off. It surprised Dean a little bit to see that Krissy was shaved. “There.” She lowered herself back down onto Dean’s cock and brushed it against her clit. “That is so much better.”

“I’m full of good ideas,” Dean said.

“What’s next, then, big boy?” Krissy asked. She was unable to remain still as she rubbed up and down Dean’s dick. “If you’re so full of ideas.”

“How about you get your ass up here-” Dean grabbed her cheeks and dragged her forward until she was nearly sitting on his face. “-and I’ll eat you out until you come.”

“That’s a pretty good plan,” Krissy allowed with a shudder.

She braced a hand on the front seat so not to crush Dean beneath her weight. Still, she was heavy, but Dean didn’t mind. Krissy smelled amazing, and she tasted even better. Dean licked her cunt, already wet with arousal, and Krissy nearly collapsed on top of him. Dean smirked and rose up a little bit so he could tongue at her clit while he fingered her. She felt wonderful and warm around his fingers, and Dean could only imagine what she’d feel like around his cock. That thought almost got himself off, but he restrained and put all of his effort into making Krissy come first. It was when he grazed his teeth against her clit that she came all over his fingers, chin, and neck. Krissy’s breaths shuddered through her, and for several moments she was still as her orgasm washed over her. When at last she opened her eyes, Dean was grinning proudly up at her.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“Oh, definitely,” Krissy said, nodding. “Now let me get you.”

Before Krissy could lower her mouth to Dean’s cock, he stopped her. “No.”

“No?” There was something in her voice - either hurt or disappointment, Dean wasn’t sure.

“Wanna bury myself in your wet pussy,” Dean told her. “If you’ll let me. Please.”

Krissy smiled slyly at him. “All right, I’m down for that.”

“Awesome.”

Krissy took Dean’s cock into her hand and positioned herself above it. When she sank down on it, Dean was pretty sure he’d never felt anything like it or ever would again. Even with the latex between them, Dean could feel how warm and wet she was, how perfectly wonderful. Krissy was completely in control as she bounced up and down on his dick, beautiful little tits jumping in the air.

Their heated breaths clouded over the windows. It was as if they were the only people in the world. Tucked far away and beneath the forest at the bottom of a mountain, it was possible they were.

It took no time at all for Dean to come inside the condom. His silent cry was swallowed by Krissy’s kiss, and she worked him through his orgasm. When the last waves of it were coursing through him, Dean opened his eyes to see Krissy smiling down at him.

“We’ll have to stock up on birth control so you can do that inside of me,” she said. “God, I can’t imagine what that’d feel like.”

She pulled him out of her, took off the condom, and knotted it. The rubber was thrown carelessly to the front, where Dean thought he heard it hit the windshield but he couldn’t be certain with the way Krissy was gently folding herself to mold to his side, a warm, comforting weight. Dean smiled and wrapped his arms around her. His last thoughts of more post-hunt sex in the future followed him to his dreams.


	24. with cherries on top: casbalthazar + food kink without food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> originally posted september 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/60022341986/with-cherries-on-top)
> 
> Disclaimer: Please don’t put ice cream anywhere near your genitals. That’s actually really unhealthy and it could lead to infections, skin irritation, and general stickiness. Unless you’re an angel and can mojo it away, please don’t. (Fic does not contain actual ice cream).

“Yes, I’ll always have you.”

 

Balthazar braces for the touch he knows is coming, and even though he’s had plenty of experience doing this exact same thing with the exact same man, that doesn’t mean it’s not still a shock to feel the cool, lubed fingers slide into his ass.

“Oh, that feels, good, Cassie,” Balthazar pants as Castiel circles around and pulls on his rim open with one finger. He backs into the fingers and moans when they come into contact with his prostate. “That’s the spot.”

“This one?” Castiel presses firmer onto the lump, and Balthazar nearly looses control and collapses.

“Yes,” he breathes, voice wretched. “I know you can do better than that, Cassie. Little bit more. What are you waiting for?”

“Beg for it,” Castiel growls.

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last hour?” Balthazar asks.

“That wasn’t begging,” Castiel says, “That was whining.”

“Close enough.” He wiggles his rump to get Castiel to do something, but Castiel doesn’t move. “Fine. Please, Castiel. Give me your cock. I love your cock so much.”

Castiel cinches his hand fast around Balthazar’s erection; were Balthazar human, he doesn’t doubt that it would be much more painful than it already is. “You aren’t very sincere, Balthazar,” Castiel growls, grip tightening.

“What are you talking about? You know how much I love your cock.” Balthazar turns his head to glance down at it, thick against his buttock. “Look at how big and juicy it is. Let me have it, Cas. Give it to me.” As an afterthought, he adds, “Please.”

Castiel still looks unimpressed.

“With cherries on top?”

“Would you like cherries?”

“Some of those maraschino cherries,” Balthazar thinks aloud. “And ice cream. Think of all the places I could lick ice cream off of you. Here.” Castiel sucks in a breath when Balthazar rubs his nipples. “Here.” Balthazar runs his hand down Castiel’s stomach. His voice gets lower, more lascivious the further his hand goes. “Here.” At last, Castiel’s meaty dick is in his grip. Balthazar pulls in a breath, closes his eyes, and tips his head back as he strokes it.

That’s all it takes for Castiel. He comes in Balthazar’s hand and across his asscheeks with a ragged gasp. Balthazar continues to stroke him through his orgasm until there is nothing left and Castiel is drawing away. Balthazar turns so he’s fully facing Castiel to see the pink color in his cheeks and the darkness of his eyes.

“It’s your turn now,” Castiel says, voice destroyed. He sinks down onto his knees without his gaze ever deviating from Balthazar’s. “I have you.”

“You’ll always have little ol’ me.”


	25. short jimmycas thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> twincest!!
> 
> originally posted autugst 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/59176007640/theyve-shared-everything-since-birth-now-that)

they’ve shared everything since birth. now that they’re older, the list of things they are willing to share has expanded from lunchbox snacks and socks to underwear and kisses.

\- - -

their bodies are identical down to the freckles they’ve earned, the scars.

“an eye for an eye,” jimmy says.

“i think you misunderstand the principle,” cas says.

\- - - 

“do you like this?” jimmy asks as he teases the bud of cas’ nipple between his fingers. “i know i like this. do you think you have the same buttons as me?”

“i think about this,” cas says, “all the time. yes.”

he lets jimmy touch him where he pleases and do to him as he wants. the next night, they switch.

\- - -

“if loving you is wrong, i don’t want to be right,” jimmy says one night after finding a luther ingram record and playing it.

cas rolls his eyes. “shut up.”

jimmy smiles and kisses his twin until the thin veil of annoyance melts away.


	26. samandestiel + fingering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for garrisonbabe. originally posted november 2013 on [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/66747201617/garrisonbabe-maddi-you-spoil-me-too-much)

It starts with one finger, just one. On his stomach, Samandriel moans at the slim intrusion as it begins to pump, swirl around.

“Give me more,” Samandriel demands, looking over his shoulder in time to see his boyfriends break their kiss.

“As you wish,” Castiel replies.

The slide in of Castiel’s dry finger alongside Dean’s burns slightly without more lube, but it’s a pleasant ache. Their fingers push in and out in perfect synchronization. Samandriel gasps when one of the fingers breaks rhythm to curl into his prostate.

“Fuck!” he cries out and shudders.

“What do you say to another?” Dean asks. Samandriel’s not sure who he’s asking, but he answers anyway.

“Yes, fuck, please,” he begs, canting his ass into the air to drive their fingers deeper.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

This time, not just one finger, but two enter him. Samandriel cries out with surprise at the thicker-than-expected intrusion. They burn going in unlubricated, but it still feels good.

“Fuck,” he says again. “Dean. Cas.”

“We’re right here,” Castiel says.

“You’re going to come just like this,” orders Dean. Samandriel is almost certain it’s his fingers pushing against his prostate, now. “If we have to stuff more fingers into ya, we will. But this is it. Fingers.”

“No cock?” Samandriel whines, dismayed.

“Not until you can prove you can take us both,” Castiel says, his voice irritatingly even. Samandriel’s head falls onto the pillow and he lets out a little cry.


	27. deanbenny + sub!dean and bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/66254032146/his-joints-creak-and-his-skin-burns-as-he)

His joints creak and his skin burns as he stretches out beneath his lover and his attentions. The soft, gentle brush of fingers inside him spreads across neurons almost lazily, a slow burning whisky. They’re tired, overused, but still so wanting. He curls inside and moans pleasantly.

A wicked grin looks down on him like the moon. “You feel that, brother? Is that good?”

Dean’s assent comes in the way of a contented purr. Benny huffs a little laugh and fans the flames in Dean’s veins higher with just a push of his fingers.

“That’s good,” Benny acknowledges, nodding. His eyes, as blue as gemstones, trace up and down Dean’s elongated body. He looks close to closing his eyes for good the further down he looks. When he’s done with his scan of Dean’s skin and the rope binding him to it, Benny turns those blues back to Dean’s own green. They’re twinkling. “You look…” Benny trails off. Dean thinks he understands what Benny’s trying to say; similarly, there’s no word to describe exactly how he feels. There is action, and there are sounds, and even they don’t come close.

“Come here,” Dean whispers, and Benny leans down to kiss him. Dean’s body sings fervently at such a high pitch his body strains against the ropes, upward, outward, but the rope contains him. They hold him in place, and they tie him.

Upon breaking the kiss, Benny murmurs, “Oh, sugar.” His nose lines up beside Dean’s. His lips are still so close to kiss, but there’s an intimacy in this that isn’t the same as kissing. They breathe in each other, together.

Benny’s hips are rocking minutely with the heat burning in him that’s begging to be unleashed. Dean feels himself want to surge up and meet him, but he’s anchored, tied, secure.

“It’s okay,” Dean sighs. His words are tangible; he feels them exhale from his lips. “Benny.”

“Brother.”

Benny’s lips are a whisper to his.

Dean‘s world is nebulous. Streaks of auroras dance in his eyelids, their motions dictated by the sound of Benny’s breath and the feel of it against his skin. The ropes graze his skin as Dean’s arms shift unconsciously. His legs open further.

“You know,” Benny says softly. Dean feels his nose tingle and trail up his face until the point of it falls into the dip between his sockets and the bridge of his nose. Benny’s hot breath blows over him. He is undulating on top of Dean, his balls brushing against the skin of Dean’s stomach and the ropes holding him together there. Benny’s bushy legs fall on either side of Dean.

“Brother, I need to say three words,” Benny says. He returns to Dean’s lips and blesses him with a kiss. Dean opens his eyes to see Benny’s palm reaching over and then cradling his cheek. Unconsciously, Dean turns into the touch, eyes fluttering into blackness once again. Benny’s thumb sweeps over his cheekbone; Dean feels the touch sink into his freckles and pigment his skin.

“Now, I’m gonna need you to look at me,” Benny says. His thumb makes another sweep, this time pulling Dean’s skin and flesh until the dark parts to Benny’s figure, his blue eyes, his gentle affection. Dean opens his other eye, and his vision fills.

“I see you,” Dean says, repeats, “I see you.”

“Good.”

The twinkle still hasn’t left the blue of Benny’s eyes. His lips spread a closed, tender smile.

“This okay, Dean?” he asks. He rubs his hand over Dean’s cheek, fingertips brushing his ear.

“Are those your three words?” Dean asks back.

“Do you want them to be?”

His answer is surprisingly immediate, and it’s that immediacy that makes Dean’s throat block the reply. He blinks, licks his lips, and stares into Benny’s eyes. His chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the ropes.

“N-,” Dean finally manages. He swallows the crack in his voice and continues, “No.” His head shakes to support the word.

That makes Benny smile wide, his tongue poking out to rest on his bottom lip for a moment as he breathes out.

“I love you,” Benny says. His other hand comes to rest over Dean’s heaving chest, the bruises and wet kisses and bites coloring him. Dean hadn’t even realized it stopped spreading, stretching, opening him. “God, I do, brother. Have for a long time, now.”

Dean arches into the sealing kiss. His fingers twitch with longing to hold Benny tight and close.

“Can’t believe I’m not scared stiff to say I love you, too,” Dean says. It must be the sated chemicals swirling still in his bloodstream, making him languid, calm.

Benny hums into their next kiss. “You’re a little stiff. Just not scared.”

Reaching behind himself, Benny grasps Dean’s cock. It doesn’t take long for Dean to reach his orgasm, and when it comes in a surge of relief as sweet and thick as honey, the evidence of it paints Benny’s back.


	28. annabela + sex toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/67122101716/anna-turns-the-device-over-in-her-hand-its)

Anna turns the device over in her hand. It’s relatively small compared to the other toys in their collection, no bigger or wider than her finger, purple in color, and has small, congruent bumps to give the silicone a textured feel. At the base, a the words  _ON/OFF_  arch around a nub of a button.

“What do you think? It’s top of the line,” Bela says with her devilish smile, shining eyes. Anna feels her own lips curve up as excitement spikes in her blood.

There’s a small loop on the outside of the toy through which a finger is made to fit. To answer Bela’s question, Anna takes hold of her right hand and slides her finger through the loop, feeling much like a proposing partner with an engagement ring as she does so.

“Touch me,” Anna commands softly with a press to the button. The toy comes alive on Bela’s index finger, and so does Bela’s expression.

“You asked for it, angel,” Bela says.

She towers over Anna and pushes her down completely onto the bed to take care of the clothes still hiding her body. The toy continues to vibrate close to Anna’s skin as Bela takes off her shirt for her, shimmies off her jeans. The pink cotton of Anna’s panties is already damp with her arousal; Bela grins at the sight and strokes her through the panties with the tip of the toy.

“How wet do you think we can get your panties before we have to throw them away?” Bela muses. “I’ll have to buy you a new pair. These are getting filthy already.”

Anna gasps when the toy’s trailing touch rises to her clit and doesn’t move except to vibrate and torment her. Her voice is high pitched and breathy when she cries, “Oh, Bela! Oh!”

As it turns out, Anna’s panties get very wet before Bela decides it’s best to take them off.


	29. deancas + obsession (gardener!cas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> carmenviola asked for deancas + obsessions  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/87610779463/dean-and-castile-71)

Castiel sits back on his heels and wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of his dirty hand, leaving a smudge of earth but not caring about it. The last of the weeds have finally been removed. Now, his garden is as pristine as the day he planted it. The daises beam up at him; a pair of bumblebees buzz around the dahlias; the hostas are finally beginning to bloom.

From behind him, Castiel hears the sound of footsteps. Moments later, a warm weight drapes across Castiel’s back and arms circle around his waist. Familiar lips kiss the bolt of his jaw, and Castiel wonders if the man he’s in love with tastes dirt on his skin.

“You’ve been home for two hours,” Dean murmurs, nosing at the side of Castiel’s head. “You don’t think there’s something better you could be doing than weeding the garden?”

“It needs to be done often. Besides, it’s calming,” Castiel retorts. He turns his head to meet Dean’s lips with his own. He’s been away for four months on a trip to promote the preservation of the Amazon Rainforest and to help develop a sustainable income for the Amazon communities through beekeeping, farming, and nut gathering. The trip was worth it, but Castiel has missed this: his garden, his home, his husband.

Dean chuckles. “You’re obsessed, admit it. Half the emails you sent were all about these freaking plants. Have you watered them? Are the bees visiting regularly? Have the green ones flowered yet?”

“The hostas,” Castiel reminds, kissing Dean again. “I may be obsessed, but you still love me.”

“Yeah, well.” Another kiss. “That makes two of us.”


	30. amelia novak + demon!bela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peggimartinelli asked for amelia novak, bela talbot + waiting  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/87566103363/55-amelia-novak-bela-talbot)

With a frustrated groan, Amelia sits down and leans against a boulder. She finally found all the ingredients required to summon a demon, but now that she’s done the deed and buried the box, it’s all for naught. No demon appears, red eyed or otherwise. The instructions the book gave her didn’t say how long one had to wait, but Amelia’s been waiting all her life, and she’s is tired.

She’s tired of waiting for Jimmy to come home, tired of waiting for her daughter’s rebellious streak to die out, tired of the bags under her eyes, of waiting for sleep to come. She is so tired.

The wind picks up from a lazy breeze, whipping Amelia’s hair around her face and tossing up fallen leaves from the ground. Curious, Amelia looks about, but she doesn’t see anything that shouldn’t be there.

“Amelia Novak,” a voice greets. Amelia’s head snaps in the other direction to see a woman no older than her striding her way. She wears a provocative black dress and high end jewelry that glints in the dying sun. Amelia stands up slowly, eyes never leaving the woman, whose eyes flash murky red as a predatory smile plays on her lips. “Bela Talbot. I’ve been waiting for you.”


	31. deankrissy au, cop!dean + waitress!krissy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/84494249638/its-at-the-cafe-that-he-sees-her-dark-hair)

It’s at the cafe that he sees her.

Dark hair, bright smile, graceful movements - it’s impossible for anyone not to be captivated by her.

Except for Sam, of course, who kicks Dean under the table when he lets his gaze wander to the woman for the third time during their lunch meeting.

“What?” Dean asks, giving his brother a disgruntled look, and Sam responds with a patented bitchface. “What?”

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam says. He throws the sugar packet trash he’s been fiddling with for the last few minutes while they wait for their food, and it hits Dean on the cheek. Dean glares at him. “She’s jailbait.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean says. “Is there anything wrong with appreciating the female physique?”

“It is when she can’t get into rated R movies by herself.”

“Actually,” a voice jumps in, startling the brothers out of their little argument. Dean looks up to see the young waitress he’s been admiring, smirking down at them. “I’m eighteen. And even if I wasn’t, it’s not like it’s hard to get into R movies. Please.” Looking satisfied with herself, she lowers Sam’s and Dean’s plates. Her eyes meet Deans as she bends over to put his burger in front of him. “Have a good lunch.” Then, she straightens up and leaves, but not without carrying Dean’s gaze with her. Her hips swing confidently.

In a low voice, Sam sing-songs, “Don’t do it, Dean.”

“Hey!” Dean calls after the waitress and she turns around. Too far away to make out the name on her tag, damn. Dean should’ve looked at it when she was at their table. What kind of cop is he?

The waitress approaches again, arms held behind her. Her confidence almost intimidates Dean. “Is everything okay, sir?”

Damn it if this woman doesn’t know what she’s doing. Dean shifts in his seat not-so-subtly.

“No, it’s all good. Just didn’t catch your name is all.”

Complacent, the waitress smiles. “Only if you return the favor.”

“Officer Dean Winchester,” Dean greets with a grin. “But you can just call me Dean.”

“You sure?” The waitress sidles up closer, “Officer Winchester?”

Oh, this woman has done it.

Across the table, Sam lowers his forehead into his hand and sighs. He likes to see his brother happy, he does. But does he have to watch him make a dork of himself? All he wants to do is eat his lunch in the short break the firm allows him. Is that so much to ask for?

Apparently.

“Krissy Chambers,” the woman says. “Nice to meet you.”

When they get their check back twenty minutes later, written on their receipt are Krissy’s cell number and the words “I like a man in uniform.”


	32. deankrissy + a spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/84297522008/krissy-supposes-it-could-have-been-worse-she)

Krissy supposes it could have been worse. She could have been invisibly handcuffed to an ogre, or a vampire, or Robin Thicke.

Instead, she’s stuck with Dean. And the distance between them only shrinks, despite everyone’s best efforts.

She wishes she could cross her arms over her chest, but that’s be awkward in her position. Plus, then Dean’s hand would be right next to her breast, and Krissy’s not sure she’d be able to handle that. She’s barely handling their current situation as it is.

The distance between them is only inches. They started off with a foot when they stepped out of the Impala after a hunt and a long drive to another. Sam, who’d suffered a concussion, took the backseat, so Krissy got shotgun. Neither she nor Dean realized anything was wrong until they started to climb out of the car and realized they couldn’t without unbearable pain slicing into their hearts.

That was around noon. The sky is dark now, and they’re no closer to figuring out what the fuck to do next than they were at lunchtime.

A yawn sneaks up on Krissy and she suppresses it, but she realizes: what if they don’t resolve this before it’s too late to stay up? What if…

She sneaks a glance at Dean, who’s listening to Sam’s speculation about a witch’s curse. Maybe Krissy should pay attention to him too, but the sudden realization that she’s probably going to have to share a bed with Dean tonight is all she can think about.

Holy shit.

She really shouldn’t think about Dean the way she does, but it’s impossible not to. He shows concern for her, tries to keep her safe even though she’s completely capable of doing that herself. He gets her like no one else, understands the pain of losing family to the supernatural. It’s not hard to fall in love with Dean Winchester.

This time, Krissy can’t hold back the yawn quick enough. Dean glances over at her, concern in his eyes.

“Tired?”

Krissy nods. “What time is it?”

“Eleven, going on twelve,” Sam answers, laying on the other bed. “Look, guys, we’re not getting any closer to figuring this out now. How about we get some shut eye and get back to it in the morning?”

“Sounds good to me,” Krissy says.

“I guess we’ll have to share the bed,” Dean says, voice carefully neutral.

Krissy glances at him from the corner of her eye. “As long as you don’t snore. Or sleepwalk.”

“Not me. Now get up, I’ve gotta brush my teeth.”

Being in the washroom together is awkward. Clearly the washroom wasn’t intended for more than one at a time, but add to that that the two people in it can only move an inch away from each other? It’s a nightmare, though thankfully a short-lived one.

But then the other one begins.

Sleeping in the same bed as another person isn’t usually this weird. Krissy’s done it with Josephine all the time when they hunted together, and she’s sure the Winchester brothers have done it their fair share of times, too. But this is  _different_. Dean is  _different_.

Dean Winchester is right behind her, practically spooning her, and all Krissy can think of is rolling over and slotting her lips together with his, laying a hand over his scruffy cheek while he grips her waist. Usually Krissy can control these kinds of thoughts, but she can feel Dean’s body heat up against her, and keeping these thoughts at bay is impossible.

Maybe this is part of the curse, too, magnifying her feelings and thoughts for Dean. Is Dean affected in the same way?

“Hey, Dean?” Krissy whispers into the quiet. She turns her head just enough to see Dean’s shoulder, but she isn’t brave enough to turn any further, afraid that if she does she won’t stop until she’s right in his face.

“Can’t sleep?” Dean guesses.

“Yeah. Are feeling a little weird?” That’s a normal enough question not arouse suspicion, right?

“You mean weirder than this handcuffed business?” he counters.

“It is pretty weird but… there isn’t anything else?”

“Why? Do you-?” He sounds so eager that Krissy’s heart jumps in her throat and she turns around completely. Moonlight shines in his eyes.

“Yeah,” she whispers breathlessly. Her eyes flicker to Dean’s lips and get caught there.

“Krissy,” Dean says, voice commanding and husky. Krissy takes a deep breath and looks back up. He must be able to read her mind, or he’s on the same level she is, because he says, “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” She asks at higher volume than she should, and Dean quiets her with a  _Shh!_. She purses her lips.

“You’re a kid,” Dean says. “I’m practically twice your age.”

“For your information, I’m eighteen; I’m not a kid. I can give consent if I want to. And I want to. Is that all?”

At a loss for words, Dean just nods.

“Good,” Krissy says and leans in. She presses her lips against Dean’s.

It’s the briefest kiss of her life.

As soon as Dean starts to reciprocate, a shock overcomes Krissy and she breaks the kiss off, looking back at Dean with wide eyes. She’s about to voice the question  _What the hell just happened?_  but Dean speaks first.

“Did the curse just break?” he asks, eyes just as wide as Krissy’s.

“I don’t know,” says Krissy. “Can you move?”

Hesitantly, Dean lifts the covers off of himself and distances himself from Krissy. And there’s nothing. No pain. Krissy breaths a sigh of relief and sinks down into the mattress.

“Thank fuck,” she says. “Way to be Disney, though. Kisses break the spell? Come on.” Not that she’s complaining at all; her lips are still tingling from where Dean kissed her back.

“You saying you didn’t like that?”

“No, dumbass.” She hits him playfully. “Come over here and kiss me again.”


	33. 9.01 coda, cas and hael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/90001492343/it-doesnt-have-to-be-this-way-castiel-urges)

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Castiel urges. His voice is irritatingly calm, when all Hael wants to do is punch him. He turns in his seat until he’s facing her as fully as he’s able. Hael casts him a quick glance but can’t afford more than that with the car speeding down the highway. “I can help you. My friends - they can help you. There has to be a way to keep you in that vessel.”

“No, there isn’t, Castiel, and you know that.” She shoots him a glare that Castiel averts his eyes from. With a sigh, Hael looks back over the empty road. “If there was, Lucifer would’ve found it.”

“Not necessarily,” Castiel says. “Or maybe he did. He had the angel tablet. Perhaps there’s something on it that can help you.”

Hael snorts. “The angel tablet? Nobody knows where it is. What makes you think you can find it?”

“We don’t have to. The boys have it - my friends. Kevin, Sam, and Dean. Kevin is a prophet; he can read the tablet for us.”

Glancing quickly away from the road again, Hael measures Castiel’s sincerity. He’s already backed out on a promise to her once; how can she trust him again?

Castiel meets her gaze this time, steadily, truthfully. Hael wants so badly to believe….

“If there isn’t a way to fix your vessel, you can take an uninhabited one,” Castiel says. Hael bites her lip and looks away. “My vessel is strong, yes, but it’s not the only one. Would you really want me in your head all the time?”

Hael sighs. “I want to like you, but no. You’re too…” What’s the word? The one word that sums up the flaw in Castiel’s character. “Human.”

Castiel nods solemnly. “So I’ve been told.”

For a long time, the only sound is the roll of the tires on the asphalt.

“Where are your friends?”


	34. alex and jody + getting ready for prom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/89923144293/you-have-soft-hair-jody-comments-as-she-runs)

“You have soft hair,” Jody comments as she runs her fingers through the dark strands.

The young woman in the mirror stares forward and does not comment. Jody understands Alex has her bad days, that this is one of those days, so she doesn’t press, just continues brushing.

It seems so tragic, though. This will be Alex’s first and only prom. Thomas Jillian, a teenager at the local high school and the sitter of many Mills’ fish and hamsters, asked Alex to accompany him a month ago. Alex hesitated to respond at first - Jody could hear her silence from the kitchen as she cooked up dinner - and then Thomas started a rambling, embarrassed apology about how he shouldn’t have assumed anything and how he was sorry he made her uncomfortable. Alex eventually found her words and agreed. Jody was proud of her for it. She always feels terrible thinking about all the traditional teenage experiences Alex had stripped away from her by the coven. She just wants Alex to be a normal teen girl.

Of course, Alex can and will be anybody she wants, but Jody still wishes.

Alex takes in a deep breath. Jody sees it expand her chest and then she releases it.

“I don’t want to go,” Alex admits.

Jody lowers the brush.

“That’s okay,” she says. She doesn’t know if Alex will accept the touch and take it for what it means, but she runs her fingers through Alex’s hair again, just to comfort, starting at the base of her skull and sliding down until her fingers are combing through air. Alex’s shoulders lose some of their tension. “Thomas will understand. And if he doesn’t, I’ll make him. What use is my gun if I can’t use it to scare the hell out of pimply teenage boys?”

Alex’s laugh is just a huff of air through her nose, but it fills Jody with happiness.


	35. hannahcharlie + flower crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/89921557843/hannahs-deft-fingers-pull-the-final-knot-secure)

Hannah’s deft fingers pull the final knot secure, but not so tight that the stems break. It’s done at last. She holds the crown of flowers up on her palms for Charlie’s inspection.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, sitting straight. “How’d you do that? Whenever I tried when I was little, the flowers would always break.”

“Patience,” Hannah answers. She smiles and shifts so she’s sitting on her folded legs instead of sitting with them crossed. “Here.”

“For me?” Charlie squeaks.

Hannah’s smile grows. “Yes, for you.”

A blush and responding smile grace Charlie’s pale cheeks. “Thanks. Um. Um, would you put it on? I’m afraid if I touch it it’ll break.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Hannah says, but she does as Charlie requests. She stumbles on her knees to get closer to Charlie; rocks and blades of grass press into her skin.

Up close to Charlie like this, Hannah can more easily see the freckles the redhead has attained over the summer so far. She can see every shade of grey in her eyes as they jump over Hannah’s face.

Hannah hardly breathes as she settles the crown onto Charlie’s head. The chain of daisies contrast wonderfully with Charlie’s naturally bright red hair.

“There,” Hannah says.

Before they can go too far, Charlie captures Hannah’s hands in her own. A gentle squeeze makes Hannah’s heart beat fast.

Charlie smiles beautifully. Her thumb rubs against Hannah’s knuckles.

“Thanks,” she says again, more calmly but no less earnestly. Their gazes lock together, and it’s a long time before they part.


	36. 9.23 missing scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> death and grief. [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/93256767723/sam-cleans-his-brothers-face-as-best-he-can-the)

Sam cleans his brother’s face as best he can.

The blood soaks into the rag he uses. It was once one of their good towels. After this, Sam will throw it away.

He wipes along Dean’s brow. His eyebrows are red. Sam scrubs so hard Dean’s skin flakes, then he stops himself.

Sam cleans his brother’s face as best he can, but he can only stare so long at Dean’s immobile features before he breaks down and cries.

It’s not as if this is the first time he’s done this, but at least then he knew it was coming, had a year to prepare himself before the hellhounds came, even though that time didn’t make his loss any easier to deal with. At least then he had Bobby, and in a fucked-up way Ruby. Now, he has no one. The bunker is silent save for his sobs.

His tears fall onto Dean. The ones that drop on his skin clear a trail as the water descends the slope of his cheeks, his nose. The ones that drop on his shirt are soaked up by the fabric.

Sam should change his shirt.

Sam should do a lot of things. He should give Dean a funeral at last. He should go someplace where there are people who care about him. He should throw away all the alcohol before he gets lost in the bottles entirely.

Sam cleans his brother’s face as best he can. And when he’s done, he shuts the door behind him, takes a deep breath, and begins to cry again.


	37. deancas hs au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garrisonbabe said: You've been tagged in the Flash Fiction Challenge! When you receive this, you must write a five minute flash fic, no rereading, no editing! Any topic works, but you have five minutes, starting now! Then tag your ten favorite authors on tumblr. :D  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/92848770108/youve-been-tagged-in-the-flash-fiction-challenge)

26, 32, 24.

Castiel spins the combination once then pulls up the latch, but the latch doesn’t open.

Eyebrows furrowed, he tries again.

26, 32, 24.

Or is his locker combo 24, 32, 26? Damn it, he hasn’t even had his coffee this morning - since Hannah is studying abroad, she isn’t home to make coffee in the morning or wake Castiel up in time to do it. Without coffee, Castiel struggles to function until after noon.

He spins the combo again.

Behind him, someone clears their throat. “Um, buddy. That’s my locker.”

Castiel raises his head to look at the numbers on the front of the door. 176. He looks to his left at locker 175. Then he sags his shoulders in defeat and turns to locker 176’s owner.

“My apologies,” Castiel says. He blinks blearily as he takes in the young man in front of him. Flannel shirt, light brown hair. Are those freckles? He rubs his eyes and sighs. “I haven’t had my coffee this morning.”

“Oh. Here.” The other extends a hand Castiel’s way. In that hand is a paper cup with steam coming out through the lid’s opening. “I forgot Charlie wasn’t going to be here. I bring her coffee from the Roadhouse every day.”

Castiel nods and accepts the cup graciously. He inhales the strong scent. “Thank you. My sister Hannah usually makes me coffee, but she’s abroad this semester. Ireland.”

“No way! That’s where Charlie is. Lucky girls.”

Castiel nods again and takes a sip from the cup. It scalds his tongue and throat, but it tastes so good. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again, they’re on the young man who gave him this precious gift.

“Castiel,” Castiel offers.

“Dean.”


	38. samlucifer mafia au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/92169803623/the-fabric-is-thick-and-heavy-impossible-to-see)

The fabric is thick and heavy, impossible to see through. It’s hot inside and breathing is difficult, but Sam Winchester is not afraid of asphyxiation. He’s more afraid of what terror awaits him once the mask is removed. He’s heard of this man. Born with the name Luke, he thought Lucifer sounded more intimidating to his enemies. Well, he wouldn’t be incorrect there. He never takes prisoners, doesn’t have the time or inclination for them. Sam won’t stand a chance against him, no matter the extensive training he was raised with. It’s been years since he truly had to recall any of that. In fact, he’s been trying to forget it all.

The woman dragging him through the compound lets out an exasperated sigh and pulls Sam to a stop.

“Open the god damn door, Ava,” she orders. Under her breath, she mutters, “Incompetent jackass.”

Sam doesn’t know who this ‘Ava’ is, but he puts his money on her glaring at the woman right now.

Locks click open and the door creaks on its hinges. The woman tugs Sam forward with surprising force. She might be the smallest grown person Sam’s met in the business, but you wouldn’t know it from her brute strength.

They go through one last door before the woman shoves him forward, stumbling to his knees. He lands on carpet, not the hard surface they’ve been walking on since they entered the compound. Sam steadies his breath. This is it. Soon, his mask will be ripped off and he’ll be subjected to any amount of torture necessary for Lucifer to get his information out of him. Or perhaps the mask will be left on. Sam doesn’t know which option would be more cruel.

“He’s all yours,” the woman drawls, and Sam’s blood turns to ice. Lucifer is already inside? Sam wanted to have a few moments to himself, to pray forgiveness for his sins. He bites down on his bottom lip and squeezes his eyes tight as a breeze ghosting across his back and a thud signals the door’s closing.

For several seconds, all Sam can hear is his own heartbeat.

Then, a voice.

“Sam,” it purrs. Lucifer. Sam swallows down the lump in his throat. “It’s nice to see you better.”

_You’ve heard of me?_

“Of course,” Lucifer answers.  _Can he read my mind?_  “This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

Before Sam knows it, fingers come up to Sam’s throat. His pulse quickens, but oddly enough there’s nothing malicious about the way he’s touched. At all. Lucifer unties the knot in the fabric and slowly lifts the mask from Sam’s head. The sudden light makes Sam squint, but he still sees the blurry form of a man in front of him.

“Lucifer,” Sam rasps as the man comes into focus. His pale blue eyes stare back at Sam, and his lips are parted. Sam blinks, stunned.

“Sam,” Lucifer says again, and this time Sam hears a gentleness in his voice. He reaches to Sam’s bound hands and cups them in his own and begins pulling the knot apart. Sam can only watch, captivated. When the rope falls free from Sam’s wrists, Lucifer brings his hands up to his lips and kisses them.

“It’s you,” Sam says, staring at Lucifer in awe. “From the alley.”

Lucifer nods and cradles Sam’s cheek in his palm. “You look much better than you did back then. Healthier.”

“I overdosed and had a knife in my back back then, anything would be an improvement.” Sam knows, logically, that he shouldn’t interact with his captor in this manner. But this man saved him from certain death. No matter how hard Sam wants to try, he can’t bring himself to hate Lucifer, the enemy of the Winchester family. Lucifer isn’t a monster. He sent Sam flowers and muffin baskets and plenty of books while he was recovering in the hospital, for God’s sake! What kind of evil person does that?

It’s been years since then, and so much has changed. But Sam never forgot the stranger who gave him a second chance. He got out of the life, is in his second year of college, and hasn’t gotten high since they discharged him from the hospital. His life is a massive improvement from what it was, all because a stranger took him to the hospital and gave him a second chance.

But why would Lucifer have him kidnapped?

Lucifer must see the confusion cross Sam’s expression because he says, “I couldn’t’ve brought you in any other way; people would start to talk. I have your brother. He wanted to see you.”

“Dean,” Sam gasps.

Lucifer nods. “He’s safe in the next room. Come with me.”

Lucifer stands up and extends a hand for Sam to do the same. Sam takes his hand, surprised at how cold it is for such gentleness.  Neither drops the other’s hand. After a short walk out of the room and through the hall, they come to a door with a peculiar mark on it. Sam studies it for a moment while Lucifer raps on the surface. It looks like a 7 with a long tail and two short lines beneath the head.

Turning to Sam, Lucifer says, “He’s missed you, Sam.”

Sam only has time to squeeze Lucifer’s hand before the door swings open.


	39. charliehannah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked for charliehannah + tears  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/91474797958/26-charlie-x-hannah)

Hannah finds the woman folded next to the break room vending machine. Her head rests against her knees and her fiery red hair falls over her, leaving the woman’s identity hidden. Surely she’s not part of the hospital’s staff; for one, she wears pedestrian’s clothes; secondly, the only redhead Hannah is aware of that works in this wing is Anna, and her hair is darker and wavier than this woman’s.

A muffled sob breaks from the woman’s chest. Hannah’s heart aches for her.

“Miss?” she greets softly so as not to frighten her too terribly. Still, alarm is inevitable, and the woman startles up. Her head rises from her knees, and her eyes, red and wet with tears, lock with Hannah’s. She looks so heartbroken that Hannah can’t stop herself from sinking to the woman’s level.

The woman latches onto Hannah, arms tight around her torso. Her face buries into the bend of Hannah’s neck, and cool tears fall onto Hannah’s skin.

“It’ll be okay,” Hannah assures her, though she can’t know this for sure. She doesn’t know who this woman is, who she may have lost or learned she may lose. She runs her hand down the woman’s hair. It feels like inadequate comfort.

“I had to let her go,” the redhead sobs. She sniffs. “My mom. I had to let her go.”

Realization dawns on Hannah. There was a woman named Gertrude Middleton who’s been in a coma for many years, who was taken off life support this morning. She had red hair that bears a striking resemblance to the woman’s in Hannah’s arms.

The only living relative Gertrude had was a woman named Charlie.

She closes her eyes as a wave of sympathy washes over her. She lost her brother several years ago, so she has an idea of what Charlie is going through right now. No consolation Hannah can offer her will make her feel better, but even knowing that she needs to try. “I’m so sorry.”


	40. hannahcas + clothes sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/97749120588/hannahs-vessel-fits-her-very-nicely-not-too)

Hannah’s vessel fits her very nicely - not too loose, not too snug. She crossed Lucifer’s path once when he was inhabiting the widow named Nick, saw the blisters and burns that marred him. It’s such a horrifying thought, being too large, too bright for God’s greatest creation. Hannah is glad hers fits. It fits so well it’s easy to forget this body isn’t hers. She isn’t human, and it’s likely she’ll never be.

But she feels like one, all the time.

Shoulders hunched, arms crossed and hands stuffed in her armpits, Hannah sits out of the way of Castiel and his friend, at a sizable table. This is the Winchesters’ home. It’s very spacious with tall ceilings and large walkways, and it’s well lit. By far, it’s nicer than hers and Castiel’s previous headquarters, although the technology isn’t as modern. Hannah thinks she likes that. While the twenty-first-century electronics are useful, Hannah would rather read books on the Ladder to Heaven than look it up on the Internet.

Sam and Castiel hug again. It’s the third time Hannah’s seen them do that, twice today. When they break apart, Hannah averts her eyes - she doesn’t want to be seen encroaching on such a personal, intimate moment between two grieving friends. Sam mutters some words, and soon his footsteps echo out of the main room.

Hannah continues to pretend to be studying the wood grain on the table even when Castiel approaches and takes the seat opposite her. After several moments of silence, he exhales a heavy breath.

She flicks her eyes up to him. He looks much the same as he has since the angels returned to Heaven: despondent, lost, miserable. Hannah wishes there was something she could do to help him feel less wretched, but she understands the loss of a loved one is not something easily recovered from.

Still, she wants Castiel to know she’s here for him. She will not abandon him again, especially now.

“How are you holding up?” Hannah breaks the silence.

Castiel shrugs. He doesn’t look up from the wood grain of the table for several moments. Then, he looks up at her.

His eyes narrow. If Hannah weren’t an angel, the movement would be nearly imperceptible. “You’re cold,” he states.

“Yes, well -” Hannah starts, but she’s stopped when Castiel heaves himself up from his chair. Hannah watches him with growing confusion as he walks around the table and shrugs off his coat. “What are you doing?” she asks him.

“You’re cold,” Castiel says again. He places his coat over her shoulders, a heavy but comforting and warm weight. It smells overwhelmingly like him.

“You aren’t cold?” Hannah asks.

Castiel shakes his head.

She shoves her arms through the sleeves. She feels like she’s swimming, drowning in the coat it’s so large on her. The sleeve has to be bunched up so she has sufficient use of her hands. She folds the middle around herself.

“Thank you.” Her voice is warm, full of gratitude. Castiel nods and makes to return to his side of the table, but before he can go too far, Hannah launches herself out of her seat and wraps Castiel in her arms.

He doesn’t feel warm, and he doesn’t feel cold. He feels alive next to her; Hannah can feel him breathe, his chest expand and contract, his breath blow over her shoulder. She fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, so she buries herself there and inhales deeply. Castiel’s arms wind around her.

“You’re sad,” Hannah states. Castiel nods and holds her impossibly closer.


	41. pamelajo + seance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/99164912758/queentrickster-jo-x-pamela-for)

Candlelight flickers across Pamela’s features, casting her chiseled features in orange. Her thick eyebrow is furrowed in concentration. Her lips round around the incantation. Jo’s eyes are supposed to be closed like Pamela’s are - to focus energy - but she can’t help but watch her girlfriend as she performs the seance.

Pamela’s always had an unearthly ambience around her, and now that aura becomes magnified. Electricity crackles in the air, growing stronger with every word Pamela intones. The candle flames shoot up, like someone greased the wick. Pamela squeezes Jo’s hand. Jo squeezes back. Her hand is clammy in Pam’s, and she hopes Pam doesn’t mind.

This has always been Jo’s least favorite part of any seance. The spirit has been caught but hasn’t yet decided whether to commune with them or not, and with Pamela augmenting its power, the spirit it more powerful than ever. If something upsets its volatile mood, the results may be catastrophic.

Pamela shouts, “Show yourself!”

A wind picks up from nowhere; papers fly about and the candles fight to keep aflame. A china dish from Pamela’s collection shatters. Jo bites her lip until she tastes blood.

Then, abruptly, everything is still.

Jo lets out a breath. She wasn’t aware she shut her eyes, but she opens them now.

A wispy form glimmers to their left. Its feet are bare, and its clothes are seared in patches. Jo trails her eyes up to see hair singed around the spirit’s waist. Its face is ashen, burned, scarred: this spirit is undoubtably Ophelia Montague. Jo recalls the print-outs Ash pushed at her the day before.

The poor girl is frightened to death (ha). She shies away, eyes wide.

“Who are you people?” she asks with a tremor.

“We’re here to help,” Pamela says. She’s much more personable than Jo, especially when talking with terrified spirits. That’s one reason she and Jo make such an excellent team: Pam handles the social portion of hunting, while Jo on the other hand covers anything that pertains to the lore. “Can you tell us anything about who set fire to your condo?”

Ophelia nods.


	42. belakali art museum au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/98654645823/queentrickster-bela-x-kali-ficlet-by)

Bela’s job at the British Museum is to supervise new exhibitions as they are being set up. The newest exhibition, one on Indian culture, religion, and art, promises to be a successful display.

She watches as a statue is wheeled in by an employee. He lifts off the white cloth covering it to reveal a statue of Kali; her multiple arms and garland of human heads make her unmistakeable. She stands victoriously over the body of Shiva, naked save for her garland and a skirt.

“Where to, ma’am?” the employee asks, and Bela blinks out of her trance. The exhibition is still far from finished, and having a staring contest with a statue is only going to delay things further than they’re already delayed.

Bela checks her clipboard, scrolls down the list until she finds the statue, and ticks it off. “She goes over there, next to the Goddess Durga,” she says. The employee nods and wheels Kali in the direction Bela points to. Bela watches the statue until another employee walks up to her and asks about the placement of the work he’s carrying.

At home, Bela types  _Kali_  into Google and reads as much about the goddess as she can until sleep overcomes her.

                                                       ~

The exhibition has been open for two weeks now, and it has been a hit. Bela ambles through it from time to time, and every time she passes the statue of Kali, she stops to admire it. Of course, all of the works in the exhibition are beautiful, but there’s something about this statue that compels Bela to stare at it for what feels like hours.

Late one evening, when there’s no one around except for the janitorial and security staff, Bela enters and makes a beeline for Kali. By now, Bela’s stopped pretending that anything about this statue makes sense, so when a small whisper in her mind tells her to touch it, she does with the tips of her fingers. It’s cool to the touch thanks to a lack of central heating in the museum. No alarms have gone off yet, and they should have, so Bela curls her palm flat to Kali’s arm.

All of a sudden, the stiff marble beneath Bela’s hand grows warm and soft. Before her eyes, the statue transforms into a woman with curled hair and dark eyes. Like the statue, she only wears a skirt and a necklace of heads.

“What the bloody hell,” Bela utters and stares at the woman, who regards her with a flinty stare until Bela remembers that her hand is still on her and pulls away.

“I am Kali,” she says. Her eyes cast around quickly, then knit together with confusion. “Where am I?”

“The British Museum,” Bela answers. “What the hell just happened?”

“Loki happened, I believe. That bastard. I’ll have his head!”

“Yeah, you’re growing quite the collection there,” Bela retorts. She forces herself not to rub her neck, where she can already feel a knife cutting through her. Kali, the Hindu goddess of destruction, stands before her and remarkably smirks at either Bela’s humor or discomfort, she’s not sure.

“Ms Talbot!” a voice calls. “Is someone with you?”

In a panic, Bela throws Kali her coat. “Cover yourself and be quiet,” she hisses before she replies to the voice. “Just talking to myself, Rufus. I’ve got to go now, see you tomorrow!”

She grabs Kali by the upper arm and drags her in the opposite direction as Rufus. Thankfully, Kali does not fight her. Garth tips his head at the both of them when they pass his post, a knowing look in his eye.

“Won’t tell anyone, miss,” he says, and for a moment, Bela loves Garth. She’ll have to pay him back one day; she really owes him for this.

                                                    ~

Having Kali around isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to Bela. In fact, it may be one of the best things.

Kali adjusts surprisingly quickly to the modern world. Probably because, as she likes to say often, she is a goddess after all. Goddesses must be superior to everyone, even in a world that’s not her own.

She gets along with Bela’s cat Ruby as soon as they meet. Ruby loves to lick Kali’s fingers, and she hops on her lap at every opportunity. The behavior always earns a smile or a laugh from Kali, and Bela grins at the both of them. Ruby sounds like a motorboat under Kali’s hand, and Bela can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on her -

No, you can’t think about a goddess like that. At least not in the middle of watching a Desperate Housewives marathon.

Meanwhile, at the British Museum, everybody is in an uproar at the loss of the statue. Bela is investigated as a person of interest since she was the last one in the museum other than security and custodians the night of the “theft”. They quickly rule her out, though when Garth and security cameras reveal Bela came and went into the museum with Kali after hours. Thanks, goddess powers. Bela laughs over it with Kali when they get home and giddily leans over to peck her lips.

                                                    ~

It’s already been a few months since Bela met Kali and she honestly can’t imagine live without the goddess anymore.

Kali is now completely accustomed to the modern life; she enjoys watching television, especially reality shows, and pizza - two things humanity definitely got right, Kali says.

After their first kiss come many more. Bela is very distracting, Kali also says, heated breath blowing on Bela’s skin as they pant and writhe together on their bed. Bela loves the moans she elicits from Kali right after.

                                                    ~

“I’d like to go home,” Kali says one day, and immediately Bela’s heart begins to sink. “London is fine, but it is not India.”

“I understand,” Bela replies. It’s not the first time her heart’s been broken, but she thinks this will be the last, because Kali is  _it_  for her. If she believed in soulmates, Kali would be hers. But Kali…

“I want you to come with me,” Kali says. Bela looks up; Kali is smiling at her. “Come with me.”

In response, Bela surges up, grabs her face, and kisses her.

>  


	43. hannahcas + haunted house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maraparkers asked for hannahcas + haunted house  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/101515699583/hannahcas-10)

Hannah stares at the house dubiously. It’s decrepit and unnerving at only a glance, and it must’t be any better inside, so she doesn’t know why Adina chose it as a hideout. Surely there are better places to hide, places with structural integrity and functionality. How could an angel stoop to this level of inferiority? Even humans deserve better than this dilapidated house.

Behind her, Castiel drops his water bottle from his lips and gasps in air, the plastic bottle crinkling as it regains form. It hurts Hannah to see him nearly human and suffering from many of humanity’s ills. But he won’t accept Hannah’s help to make himself better. He’s becoming just as crippled as Adina’s hideout.

Wooden boards cover many of the windows, though some are exposed to show shards of dirty glass barbing the perimeter. Graffiti is scrawled on nearly every surface. The steps leading up to the porch are broken. Nocturnal creatures have made their home here, and they scurry about the property freely. This is only what Hannah can see from the outside. She imagines the inside is in ruins, water damaged, worse.

Castiel comes up to Hannah’s side. His lips glisten with water and his eyes shine with pain. “This is it?”

“Apparently,” Hannah says with a nod. “She must be unwell if she would rather this place than Heaven.”

“Not necessarily.” Castiel licks his lips. The next thing Hannah knows, he grabs her hand and doesn’t let go. It’s not as if holding her hand has any benefit, and Hannah isn’t sure why he’s doing it, but she can’t deny that it feels nice, not just in her hand but in her whole body. Warmth blossoms under her skin, starkly contrasting the unseasonably cold October chill. “Let’s go,” Castiel says, and together they walk forward. They don’t drop each other’s hand until they’ve crossed the threshold and split up to cover more ground. Hannah won’t ever admit it to Castiel, but her mind is preoccupied rather than completely focused on their mission. When she enters the bedroom, her thoughts stray from finding Adina and to Castiel. He sleeps on a bed not unlike the one predominating this room - although motels are vastly cleaner than this - and Hannah knows humans, especially older ones, often sleep in pairs. She wonders not only how it would feel to sleep, but to sleep beside Castiel, their breaths synchronized.


	44. deanbenny + domestic halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maraparkers asked for deanbenny  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/101394417218/deanbenny-17)

If you ask Dean, their Halloween get-up is pretty sweet. They’ve got the fake graves in the lawn; cotton thread spiderwebs strung on their porch and adorned with monster-sized spiders; a couple of carved pumpkins glowing on the porch steps; a colony of bats and a skeleton hang from the gutter; a witch splattered on the window. Their house is by far the best house on the block. Suck it, McAlester’s!

It’s four in the afternoon, still a little early for most trick-or-treaters, but their bowl of candy is ready by the door, and when Dean opens the door, Benny’s already dressed to the nines in his vampire costume. His lips curl over his fangs - quality made, not the cheap plastic crap at the superstore - as he smiles. “Trick or treat?” he growls, pale blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I’m supposed to be asking that, not you,” Dean says, and he pushes himself into the house. Benny captures him with a kiss before he can even get out of the foyer. “Hey!” Dean exclaims in a brief moment where his lips are free. “I need to get dressed; the kids are gonna be lining up at the door any minute now.”

With a playful growl, Benny lets Dean go, and he slaps his ass when Dean steps aside to go up the stairs. Dean gives him the  _you’re gonna pay for that one, mister_  look before ascending.

Minutes later, Dean comes out of their bedroom wearing his own costume, straight from a Western blockbuster. It smells fresh out of the dryer, and Dean inhales heavily on his way downstairs, remembering the night he rode Benny, wearing nothing but his cowboy hat, vest, sheriff badge. That was a good time.

He’s thinking about propositioning Benny for a repeat when the phone rings. Benny shouts that he’s got it, and answers with a “Hello?”

Dean detours to steal a Tootsie Roll from the candy bowl before joining Benny in the dining room. When he sees Benny, the look on his face stops Dean in his tracks.

“That’s great, ma’am!” Benny says. “We’ll be there. Thank you.”

Benny’s hardly returned the phone to its cradle when Dean asks, “Who was that?”

“Cassie Robinson,” Benny says, and for a moment Dean can’t believe what he’s hearing. He stares at Benny while his heart runs full tilt, and Benny smiles wide. “Dean, the adoption papers went through.”

The next thing Dean knows, he and Benny are embracing, and tears are pricking in Dean’s eyes. Relief and happiness pour into him.

“We’re gonna be dads,” Dean whispers, and Benny crushes him tighter.


	45. annahael + halloween costumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maraparkers asked for annahael  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/101380189368/annahael-9)

“Are you sure about this?” Hael calls out to Anna, not breaking her gaze with the mirror opposite the door.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Anna replies. “Are you ready now?”

“Just a moment,” Hael calls back and turns her full attention back to her reflection.

She doesn’t see what Anna saw in the costume. The toga’s uneven hemline nearly rises to reveal her panties, and the lowest it goes is to the top of her knees. Both of her arms are bare, save for the armcuffs adorning her wrists, unless you count the sheet thrown over her left shoulder, which Hael does not. The fabric is thin enough that it might as well not exist at all, not to mention that it rubs uncomfortably against the skin, although it does not do that on the outside, where the toga is smooth and shimmery, a poor imitation of silk.

Hael does appear to glow, but that could be caused by the fluorescents shining down on her.

Taking a deep breath, Hael steels herself and opens the door.

She’s used to being naked in front of Anna, but now, while they’re in a public area and while Hael technically isn’t naked at all, she’s self-conscious. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, does know how she should stand, and so she fidgets a lot at the end of Anna’s wide eyes.

“Hael,” Anna breathes, and she reaches out to pull Hael to her. Their lips meet for a brief kiss, and then Anna extends her arms, keeping Hael at arms length so she can inspect the costume while still touching her bare shoulders. “It’s beautiful,” Anna murmurs. “You’re beautiful.”

A blush takes root in Hael’s smiling cheeks. “You are, too,” she says. Anna wears a mimicry of a gladiator’s uniform, and though Hael knows a Halloween costume cannot be very authentic or practical, a gladiator’s costume should surely be more protective than the skimpy dress Anna dons. She’s wearing even less than Hael, for Heaven’s sake! “These aren’t very accurate,” Hael says, taking one of the flaps from Anna’s skirt and feeling it between her fingers: is that supposed to be imitation leather?

“It’s Halloween, what more do you expect?” Anna says and laughs. She puts the last piece of Hael’s costume in place: a cheap plastic laurel painted in gold. Hael is smiling when Anna leans in again to kiss her, much longer than before.


	46. claire novak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/101309452888/claires-palms-are-scraped-raw-and-her-upper-arms)

Claire’s palms are scraped raw, and her upper arms feel like jelly, but the pride that radiates from her chest succeeds all her pains. Breath punching in and out of her like an ocean crashing onto shore, she leans around to look over her shoulder. “I did it!” she exclaims with a wide, triumphant grin. “Mommy! Look!”

“I see you,” Mommy says with corresponding gestures. “Come down.”

But Claire doesn’t want to. The exhilaration in her veins only wants her to climb higher and higher and higher until she’s touched the sky and the sky touches her back.

“Claire!” her mom begins in a warning tone. She’s been afraid of heights since the hot air balloon accident she was in when she was thirteen - just as old as Claire - so it’s a miracle that she allowed Claire to climb the rock wall at all.

Claire knows why Mom’s allowed it now. Ever since Castiel blew in and then blew out of their lives - with their father, husband - Claire has felt empty inside. She thinks her mom feels dark inside too; sometimes Claire spies the haunted look in her mom’s eyes before she tucks it away for stoicism. Climbing the rock wall was her mom’s plan to fix Claire, and maybe fix herself. Not that there’s any way to truly fix their pain. But a way to make it better, more manageable.

At the top of the rock wall, however, all Claire wants to do is invite Castiel back inside so she can feel this exhilaration all the time.


	47. haelclaire + the apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/105159329578/how-many-do-you-think-are-up-there-stars-or)

“how many do you think are up there?”  
  
“stars or satellites?”  
  
claire tears her eyes away from the night sky to look at hael’s neutral expression. her hands are linked behind her head, cradling it against the grassy field that was quickly gathering dew.  
  
claire brings her gaze back to the sky. she wishes she had hael’s strength. “earth-like planets. how many?”  
  
hael hums softly before answering. “many. far too many to count. and none of them in our reach.”  
  
their home is slowly dying. within months or, if they were lucky, years, earth would be uninhabitable. hael and claire only just met, and it isn’t fair that they can’t have a lifetime together. that is what claire wants: forever.  
  
she touches the ring on her third finger with her thumb, spins it and feels the gem press into her flesh. forever


	48. hannah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/103694380338/however-calming-the-river-is-it-cannot-drown)

However calming the river is, it cannot drown Hannah’s anxieties. However loud the river is, it cannot deafen the voices - the voice - in her head.

She breathes in and back out, a simple, refreshing action. Technically, angels do not need to breathe, but Hannah learned during her first few frightening months on Earth that she should keep her vessel alive on its own power rather than the power of her grace. Humans are terrified and confounded by anything that is  _other_  to them, which Hannah undoubtedly is.

She didn’t understand at first. Now she does, and she sort of wishes she didn’t. She likes it on Earth, and she likes it in this vessel. Neither might belong to her, but she feels like they are an integral part of who she is. She’s started to identify her image by the simple, human one she sees in reflective surfaces; she’s started to indulge in human comforts, such as eating, showering, loving.

Human love is such an odd thing. Hannah feels love, of course, for her Father, even though she knows He isn’t much of a father anymore. Hannah feels love for the humans she’s fallen among; she doesn’t love any single one, the same way a cloud, if it were personified and could feel emotions, cannot love any single raindrop that falls from its density. Hannah simply loves them all. She loves their greatness, their willingness to not only survive but  _accomplish_. She loves their devotion, their sense of identity, their freedom.

Lucifer was wrong.

Humans are nothing short of awe-inspiring. It is possible to love humans more than God. Hannah is living proof.


	49. hannahcas abo (pregnant!omega!hannah, alpha!cas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/108099547243/standing-on-the-peak-of-the-mountain-hes-called)

Standing on the peak of the mountain he’s called his home, Castiel spreads his wings. The wind blows through his feathers, shuffles them, and carries old, broken feathers into the current. Ideally, a fellow angel would groom Castiel’s wings, but since he disobeyed his superior’s orders to destroy a thriving human town and all of its inhabitants, Castiel has been cast out and made a pariah. If another angel associates themselves with Castiel, they would be cast out as well. It’s a horrible fate for a social creature like an angel, but Castiel has learned to live by himself.

He still hears whispers of Heaven’s voices. They call him the Angel of Solitude. Castiel hopes that means any humans who find themselves alone will pray to him so he can help them feel less lonely, otherwise the title means nothing to him.

But nobody prays to him. The only company he has is the wildlife.

As the sun descends from its highest point in the sky, the air becomes cooler. Castiel climbs down from the peak and makes his way to his home, a cave in the mountainside he carved himself. He’s halfway there when he smells something.

No. It can’t be. What’s a pregnant omega doing in his territory?

He takes flight, following the fragrant scent the omega gives off. He finds her perched on a rock twenty meters from the shore of the lake. When she hears Castiel approach, her head snaps in his direction, and her eyes immediately lock with his. Pain shines in her expression.

“Please,” she cries. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, it’s okay,” Castiel assures her. She appears torn to trust him, perhaps wanting to but having been hurt before by putting her trust in the wrong place. Castiel’s heart aches for her. His protective alpha instinct flares, but he tempers it down. “What’s your name?”

The omega shifts her eyes. “Hannah.”

“Hannah,” Castiel repeats. Her name feels strong on his tongue. “I’m Castiel.”

“Castiel?” she asks. Curiosity narrows her eyes until realization widens them. “Castiel. The Angel of Solitude.”

Castiel suppresses a grimace, but he still frowns. “Yes, that would be me.”

“It must be safe here, then,” Hannah guesses. Castiel nods. “May I stay with you?”

Her arm caresses her swollen midsection, drawing it to Castiel’s attention. His first instinct is to bring Hannah into his home, lay with her in bed, keep her safe and cared for. But what if she doesn’t want that? And what about-

“Where’s your mate?” Angels do not reproduce without a mate, similarly to the way Castiel’s observed many humans do not reproduce without first taking a husband or wife. And when their omega is carrying their child, on principle an alpha would not leave them unprotected, especially on Earth.

Hannah looks around again nervously before taking a breath and admitting, “I do not have a mate.” She lifts her chin, as if daring Castiel to say that a childbearing omega such as herself needs and would not be complete without a strong alpha by her side.

She does not require a mate, obviously, but Castiel cannot imagine what kind of alpha would impregnate such a beautiful omega and then leave her on her own with her fledgling, as he imagines that’s what Hannah has been through.

Hannah confirms his worst suspicions when she sniffs from the cold and says, “My alpha abandoned me.”

Horror strikes through Castiel. His instinct to protect Hannah grows.

“You’re welcome in my den,” he says, walking forward and giving her his hand. Hannah’s own hands are knobby, and Castiel can’t help but want to lay down with her and play with her hands for hours until he can draw their likeness blind. Even after she’s on her feet, Hannah does not let go of Castiel’s hand, and he does not let go of hers.

“Thank you,” Hannah says gratefully.

She settles in well in Castiel’s den, and the longer she stays - and the closer her due date becomes - the more Castiel wants her to stay, to become his mate. He wakes up every day now with her scent in his nose, goes to sleep dreaming of her, imagines that after she gives birth, Castiel will still be in her life to help raise the fledgling. He even begins to think of both Hannah and her unborn child as  _his_.  _His_  mate,  _his_  fledgling. He’s disgusted with himself and leaves the den more often and for longer periods of time under the pretense of hunting  ~~for his family~~.

Hannah eats enough to feed Heaven’s guard and then some. Her favorite meat is lamb, and she loves salads. Castiel prepares these for her as often as he can.

One night, as Hannah lays on the bed and Castiel takes the couch, as is their normal arrangement, Castiel hears Hannah whisper, “Castiel?”

He jumps off the couch in a flash and hovers over Hannah, trying to figure out what’s wrong, why she called for him.

Hannah turns onto her back to look at him. As soon as Castiel registers that she’s smiling, he relaxes his shoulders.

“What is it?”

In answer, Hannah tugs him down into bed. She guides his arms to wrap around her stomach; on instinct, Castiel uses his hold on her to pull her flush to his front.

“I want this,” Hannah whispers. Castiel noses her neck and inhales.

“Yes, I want this too.”


	50. cas and claire + confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> discussion of death  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/106012805233/you-know-i-met-another-angel-once-claire)

“You know, I met another angel once,” Claire admits while Dean drives them away from the town. She doesn’t know where they’re going, doesn’t know what’ll happen to her, but what else is new? That’s been the story of her life since Castiel poured out of her and back into her father.

She glances up at Castiel, taking a break from studying his hands. Castiel looks back at her patiently and encouragingly. He doesn’t look anything like Jimmy, even though he wears his face. That’s not Jimmy’s patient and encouraging expression.

Claire looks away and licks her lips. “It was after the angels fell,” she says. Sam and Dean are listening in on their conversation, but they try not to show it. “I was in Colorado. Met a nice woman named Daphne there. I was looking for you. Or my dad.”

Her throat thickens. Castiel lays a hand on her back and rubs soothingly and awkwardly.

“I found her on the side of the road,” Claire continues. She can still see her in her mind: broken, bloody, vengeful; beautiful. “Her name was Hael. She had no wings, and she was dying.”

The awkward rubbing stops; now Castiel just has a hand on Claire’s back.

“She asked me to kill her, and I did.”

Tears spring freely from her eyes. Claire didn’t even realize they were welling up.

“The blade is still in my backpack.” She kicks the pack at her feet, feels her boot connect with the long metal.

Relief pours over her from finally saying this. She couldn’t tell anyone, not any transient friends she made, not Randy, not Dustin. She tells Castiel and the Winchesters now, and all the tears she hadn’t shed over Hael yet fall down her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Castiel murmurs. “It’s all right.”

 


	51. angsty aro!dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/114000715723/for-churchsam-deans-at-least-fifty-kinds-of)

Dean’s at least fifty kinds of broken, that’s for sure. He fucks up constantly, everybody he becomes attached to leaves him, and even his own body wants nothing more to do with him.

He coughs into his hand, the one with the IV taped on the back, and the adhesive yanks on his skin.

Sam is immediately on him, hovering and fluttering his hands as if he can do anything to ease the constant suffering plaguing Dean’s body.

“I’m fine, Sam,” he croaks. Big fat fucking lie, that one. Sam can see straight through him, and he hands Dean a paper cup of room temperature water. Dean downs it as fast as he can manage, then suppresses the coughs threatening to throw everything back up again.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam glares. Dean glares right back at him. Hopefully the effect of it isn’t diminished by the bags beneath his eyes or his sunken cheeks. Sam takes the cup back from him. Their fingers graze, and Dean tries not to grab Sam’s hand and never let go.

It’s stupid. It’s fucking stupid. But if he’s dying - and it looks like he will be at this rate - then he wants his brother. He wants to hold his hand, cry against his shoulder, all that sappy crap he  _shouldn’t_  be thinking about. This is his  _brother_ , for fuck’s sake.

But there’s no one else Dean wants around. His doctors suggested having all of his loved ones around, but that’s just Sam. Sam, only Sam. Dean doesn’t have anyone the way Sam has Jess, or Cas has Hannah. And yeah, Dean loves Jess and Cas and even Hannah, but not like Sam. No one is ever like Sam.

It’s wrong. He should have someone, like Cassie or Lisa. But when they wanted more than he could offer them, they split. Dean just isn’t built for that kind of love or relationship.

He’s fucked up, and he’s dying so he won’t even have a chance to figure out what the hell is wrong with him. What a wonderful life.


	52. krissyclaire + hold my hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113969812003/hold-my-hand-krissyclaire-d)

She’s never been afraid of the dark before, but tonight it feels like it’s wrapping around her like a poisoned cocoon. It chokes her, holds her tongue down, restricts her throat so she cannot even whisper for help.

Her voice is lost, but her hands are not. She reaches out her left hand to find Krissy’s arm, and when she finds her elbow, she slides her palm down until she’s touching skin. Skin on skin contact - Shakespeare wrote something about that didn’t he? He warned young lovers not to fall too hard or too fast because the love they felt was not real. What would the Bard think about the love that’s sprung between Claire and Krissy? Formed from blood and pain and the deaths of family members. They’re only seventeen, but Claire is certain she will never leave Krissy. Whether because their lifestyle will catch up with them or maybe they will miraculously live long enough to sprout grey hairs and liver spots.

She isn’t as afraid of the dark when Krissy is around. Like an anchor in a black hole, she holds her together, however impossible that may be.

Krissy squeezes her hand, and Claire snuggles closer against her.


	53. annaruby college au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113937897338/omg-or-annaruby-last-hope)

Anna collapses into the chair across from Ruby, textbooks slapping loudly against the table and earning a harsh demand to be quiet from the librarian. Ignoring the old woman, Ruby flicks her eyes up from her notebook just in time to watch Anna flick her lip ring with her tongue.

“Anna,” she says, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough not to be yelled at by the librarian. “Nice to see you here.”

“Yeah, I know.” She rakes a pale hand through her wild mane of hair. She’s completely out of place here, with her rebellious propensity and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. Ruby likes it though, and she wouldn’t have her any other way. “Look, you’re my last hope.” She pushes forward a paperback rented from the library, multicolored sticky notes protruding from the pages. “I need help, majorly.”

“Looks like it.” Ruby smirks. “It’s gonna cost you, though.”

Anna smirks right back at her before leaning forward and planting a kiss on Ruby’s lips.


	54. harpermonroe post s1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said: I thought you said you were taking prompts so if you are would you write one for Harper and Monroe after the season finale of the 100. I read one you wrote a while ago and it was great.
> 
> sorry, i haven’t finished the last half of the second season. here’s something for the season one finale. sorry if i’ve fucked up some details. i’m a bit inebriated.
> 
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113914956308/i-thought-you-said-you-were-taking-prompts-so-if)

The smoke invades Monroe’s body. She is hurt, she is sleepy, she is dying. Her people drop easily all around her, becoming nothing more than dark mounds lying on the ground in a red fog.

“Harper!” Monroe cries out. She coughs. The poisonous red fog enters her mouth, her lungs, and she coughs some more. “Harper!”

No one responds to her, but there are muffled voices and the sound of footsteps. She spies a figure standing in the fog, wearing a mask and pointing a weapon around. Monroe remains as still as possible, barely dares to breathe as the laser on the end of their weapon passes over her body.

She loses consciousness after that, and she loses forty eight of her people to the Mountain Men. Among them, Harper. Her body was not found in the aftermath of the raid, nor was Clarke’s, Jasper’s, and many others.

She is reunited with members of the Ark, but no matter how many people they find and recover, none of them can fill the void in her chest. She only wants Harper. She only needs Harper.


	55. krissyclaire post-hunt hurt!krissy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deantakesitinthecas asked for: krissy and claire like long term bffs claire hating that krissy hunts sometimes but they both have this giant crush on each other and they get drunk and kiss lots plz
> 
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113913277938/krissy-and-claire-like-long-term-bffs-claire)

“You need to be more careful,” Claire chastises with the cap of the alcohol bottle between her teeth. Even though the words are muffled and Krissy’s halfway drunk, she’s heard, if not understood.

“You don’t get it,” Krissy says. They’ve had this argument about a million times already, and Claire is so not in the mood to go over it all again, especially with all of the blood Krissy’s lost tonight and with all of the alcohol she’s drunk to dull the pain. Claire wishes alcohol was an option for herself, but one of them needs to have a level head, and that responsibility always falls to her. “Do you know how many people I’ve saved? I’m a hero!”

“And will you still be a hero when you’re dead?” Claire smacks. Her face burns, but she doesn’t take the words back. She doesn’t care how much they might sting Krissy. No, she doesn’t.

Except she completely does. It breaks her heart to see Krissy so full of pain. Claire’s seen Krissy near death more times than she cares to count, has seen her writhe in bed from excruciating menstrual cycles, has seen her beaten down and broken on a daily basis. But she’s never seen her look as hurt as she does now, and it’s all because of Claire’s words.

“I promise not to be a martyr,” Krissy mumbles. “I don’t want to die. Not yet. Not anytime soon.”

“Then what’s with this?” Claire gestures vaguely at all the teeth marks and claw stripes marring Krissy’s body, making her pale from blood loss. Krissy turns her head away from Claire, tenses her jaw.

“This is saving civilians,” Krissy justifies. Claire snorts, and Krissy turns her wet eyes back to her. Fuck. Claire bites the inside of her bottom lip. “I’m making the world a safer place. You deserve a safe world. I’m making one for you.”

Claire didn’t know Krissy had enough strength in her to do surge up, but she does that and even more. She captures Claire’s lips with her own, sucks and draws. Claire wants to stop. Everything screams at her to end this now. But this is only the beginning of what she’s been dying to try ever since she met Krissy Chambers in that church eons ago. This is the start of everything she’s ever wanted since that moment.

She kisses back.


	56. tracyhael 9.01/9.02 coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113903439403/human-boundaries-and-maps-are-arbitrary-and-hael)

Human boundaries and maps are arbitrary, and Hael fails to understand them. Is she even going the right way?  
  
She’s been driving since Castiel left her five hours ago. She’s unsure if she should exit the road or not, so she continues along it. At least until she comes across a young woman standing over a powder blue vehicle beneath the high sun.  
  
Hael pulls her vehicle to a stop several yards behind the seemingly troubled woman. The woman turns, eyebrows furrowed, and Hael exits her car.  
  
“Do you need help?” she asks.  
  
The woman looks her up and down, then looks down the empty road. “Um, no, I’m good. Just waiting for someone.”  
  
“Are they coming to help you? It looks like you have car trouble.” Not that Hael knows anything about human cars. But she’s an angel! She should be able to help this woman. Angels are meant to assist God’s most divine creation.  
  
The woman puts her hands on her hips. “No offense or anything, but I’d really rather you run off,” she says and looks down the road again. “Go on. Shoo!”  
  
Confused, Hael takes a step backwards. The dusty rocks beneath the soles of her shoes shifts.  
  
A white van crests over a small hill. Upon hearing its engine, the woman turns around and flexes her jaw. She mutters something beneath her breath that Hael is not paying attention to. She is more concerned with the new arrival than the woman’s utterances.  
  
It only takes a look for Hael to know the newcomer is not a human but a vampire. His soul has sharp edges and is tinged deep red. Instinctively, Hael grabs the human woman’s arm and pulls her backwards. She doesn’t take her eyes off the lecherous creature.  
  
“You are the one who must run,” Hael tells the woman.  
  
“Who are you?” she demands, attempting to pull her arm out of Hael’s grip.  
  
“Hael. I’m an angel, and you are in danger being here.”  
  
“Let go of me!” the woman shrieks. Hael isn’t happy to oblige, but she does after the vampire in the white van drives off.  
  
“Do you know who that was?” the woman demands. Hael doesn’t have time to respond before the woman answers herself. “He’s been killing young woman from this town to the next. I was going to stop him, once and for all, before he could strike again.”  
  
It dawns on Hael like a cool wash of rain. “You’re a hunter,” she says.  
  
“Yeah.” The woman wipes her mouth and glares. “Tracy Bell. You owe me a vampire head.”


	57. deancas + musician!dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113896299458/dean-cas-and-58)

Castiel can’t wipe the grin that takes over his mouth as Dean Winchester walks up on stage, holding his guitar by its neck. Stage lights illuminate the blush on his cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

He settles down on the available stool and situated the two microphones to his liking, one standing in front of the guitar’s sound hole and the second nearly touching Dean’s lips. Oh, what Cas wouldn’t give to be that microphone now, to feel Dean’s chapped lips against his own. Later, he reminds himself, and takes a first sip of the alcohol Ellen set in front of him several minutes ago.

Dean clears his throat nervously before starting without preamble. Cas recognizes the opening cords immediately, and his proud smile grows larger. Then, Dean starts to sing.

“How lucky can one guy be?” he asks into the microphone. He surveys the crowd listening attentively; a smile quirks on his lips when he meets Cas’ eyes. “I kissed him and he kissed me,” he continues. The words are different than the original, but nobody minds, least of all Castiel.

“Like a fella once said, ain’t that a kick in the head?”


	58. ravenclarke + seeking solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113894447443/ravenclarke-5-3)

Fuck this snow. Fuck the weather.

Raven marches through the puddles of slush made in the dilapidated, dimpled sidewalk. She swears she’s going to lose the toes on her right foot, and then where will she be? Without the function of her left leg, missing her right toes? Will she wen be able to walk like that or will she confined to that god damned wheelchair or the rest of her life?

Fucking snow.

She hobbles as fast as she can toward the bus stop shelter, where there are seats she can sit down in until the bus arrives, probably late considering the snow. She hates admitting to herself that she’s disabled, that she needs assistance. But her legs are killing her, even the one that she shouldn’t be able to feel at all. She needs to sit down, rest.

Another unfortunate soul is at the bus stop when Raven arrives. Her hair is damp and wavy and as yellow as the winter sun. She lifts the corners of her lips in an awkward smile to acknowledge Raven’s arrival, then continues staring out into the street with her hands in her lap.

And that is that.

At least until the bus pulls into the station.

Raven struggles to draw herself to her feet. Her fucking paraplegic leg won’t fucking move. She holds back a groan of frustration as she just slips, unable to find purchase. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Anger builds up in her and nearly makes her snap like a tightly held rubber band when a hand falls on her shoulder.

Raven jerks her head up and finds her eyes locked with the blonde woman’s who also sat at the bus stop. She offers Raven another small smile.

“Need help?” she asks innocently.

No. No, Raven doesn’t. She doesn’t. But she accepts the stranger’s hand even as bile and disgust at herself rises in her throat.

The woman smiles encouragingly and loops her elbow with Raven’s. “I’m Clarke,” she says as they begin to shuffle together to the open bus doors.

“Raven,” she responds.

Raven doesn’t complain when Clarke sits beside her in the ride to campus. In fact, it’s kind of nice to be able to lean her shoulder against another’s, and Clarke’s smiles continue to enlarge with every touch.


	59. haelclaire hunting together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/113854435393/the-gentle-cadence-of-haels-voice-washes-over)

The gentle cadence of Hael’s voice washes over Claire. Like finding herself in the eye of a storm, she breathes deeply and deliberately.  
  
Her hands wander from her scabbed knee to the unknown in front of her. The tips of her fingers graze Hael’s knee, and Claire’s shoulders relax.  
  
“Everything will be okay,” Hael soothes. She covers Claire’s hand with her own, curls beneath her fingers, and squeezes comfortingly. “We’ll get out of this.”  
  
It’s only their third hunt together after Hael gave up her grace to save Claire from an army of angry angels looking for Castiel. Tears prick to Claire’s eyes at the unfairness of it all. She hasn’t introduced Hael to the wonders of the movie theatre; they haven’t even made it to the Grand Canyon yet.  
  
Claire swallows the thick mucus lubricating her throat. “I’m sorry,” she says again.  
  
Again, Hael squeezes her hand. Claire hears her shift, feels her move closer, and all of a sudden a pair of lips are in the corner of her own. It lasts for two seconds, then Hael leans back.  
  
“What was that for?” Claire demands, voice hoarse. She brings up her left hand to touch the spot Hael kissed. Nothing feels quite real, but at the same time it feels so real it reminds Claire of those brief minutes Castiel possessed her body.  
  
“Humans often show their affection for one another through kisses,” Hael explains, at once sounding like she needs validation and like she thought Claire understood. Which - she does. She does. But she can’t believe it. It’s impossible, and Claire shouldn’t be wanting to kiss the former angel back, the very same former angel as tried to kill directly after the Fall.  
  
And yet… she does.  
  
She finds Hael’s cheek with her palm and guides their lips into an awkward, off-mark kiss. Lightening shoots through Claire’s veins, sharp and awesome. This is real.


	60. samandestiel + pregnant!samandriel has cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/118176192363/when-dean-wakes-up-he-knows-immediately-something)

When Dean wakes up, he knows immediately something is wrong. The weight on the mattress is wrong, his front is cold, and he cannot hear Alfie’s obnoxious snoring.

His eyes fly open: there is no one in front of him; a sliver of light illuminates the wall, but otherwise it is dark. Turning his head over his shoulder, he sees Cas is still sound asleep, and beyond him the door is open a crack.

Shit.

He disentangles himself from Cas’ octopus limbs, wrenches off the blankets, and rushes out the door. Worst-case scenarios run through his mind at lightning speed. What is Alfie is sick. What if he’s hurt or dying or there’s something wrong with the baby? What if something took Alfie? What if -

_Clack!_

Dean spins around, and charges toward the sound.

Adrenaline pumping, heart racing, Dean skids to a stop in the kitchen doorway - only to find Alfie standing in front of the refrigerator, holding a bowl of dinner’s leftovers.

“Alfie?” Dean asks. His breath comes in gasps, which he tries to stifle into normalcy. “What-? What’re-?”

“Dean?” Alfie’s eyebrows crumple in confusion.

“I thought-” Dean’s cheeks burn.  _I thought something happened to you_ , is the truth, but he cannot say it. Instead, he swallows the words down and gestures to the bowl in Alfie’s hands. “What’s up?”

Alfie smiles, and he too blushes. “I’m having a craving.”

“For tuna salad?”

Wrinkling his nose, Alfie shakes his head. “It fell out of the refrigerator. I’m looking for the pickles.”

“Ugh, that’s even worse.” Alfie grins. “Here, let me help. Sit down, I’ve got it.”

Alfie ambles over to the stools standing around the island and takes a seat in the nearest one, his hand wrapped protectively around his swollen stomach. Dean watches him fondly, his angel and his child in one vessel. Within the week, the child will be born. Dean is both eager and anxious to welcome her into the world.

He pushes aside vegetable baggies and condiment bottles until the pickle jar is within reach. He’ll have to make a run to the store in the morning proper, before Alfie gets cranky about running out. There should be enough for now at least.

“I’m guessing you’re in the mood for a grilled cheese and pickles sandwich?” Dean says, looking over his shoulder. Alfie nods, so Dean digs around until he finds good cheese and butter, then goes to the pantry to find bread. “Were you really going to make a grilled cheese on your own?”

“No. I was going to settle for pickles.” Alfie might be millions of years old, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to work the stovetop yet. Dean was teaching him the ways of food preparation, but that was before they found out Alfie was pregnant. Ever the over-protective partner, Dean refuses to even let Alfie cut cherry tomatoes for salads, just in case he accidentally severs his finger (hey, it could happen).

Dean sets a skillet on the stove and turns the burner on. While he waits for it to heat up, he butters one side of each slice of bread.

“Dean? Alfie?”

Dean and Alfie both look up to see Cas standing in the doorway, his eyes squinty with sleep and appearing quite grumpy.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

Neither Dean nor Alfie can’t help but laugh.


	61. charlie and dorothy adopt a cat together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/114106919798/for-madhousemads-starring-a-young-kitty-i-met-at)

“You don’t think this is too soon?” Dorothy asks, walking through the door Charlie holds open for her.

It’s crowded inside, and Dorothy clings close to the walls and draws her arms up to her chest. Curse her insecurities and anxieties.

Charlie is elegant. She glows in this congested and kind of dirty place, and she smiles lovingly at Dorothy.

“You’re the one who brought this up,” she reminds her.

Dorothy swallows. Yeah, that’s right. One day when they were watching Star Trek reruns on the couch, a commercial asking for donations to the SPCA came on, and as the soulful clips of dogs and cats passed over the screen, Dorothy said, “I’ve always wanted a cat.” Her dad was allergic to cat fur, so the only pets Dorothy had growing up were fish and hamsters.

And now, after researching how to care for cats all week and gathering supplies, here Charlie and Dorothy are in the lobby of their local shelter.

“I’ll give the form to the front desk,” Charlie says. “The cattery is over there. I’ll be there in a moment.” She gives Dorothy a kiss on the cheek and enters the throng of hopeful adoptees. Dorothy turns around and opens the doors to the cattery.

There are at least forty cats in here, and Dorothy would love nothing more than to take them all home. How can she even chose one?

She’s staring at a black and white fluff ball named Micky D - apparently he was found several weeks ago outside of a McDonalds - when she hears Charlie’s footsteps approach from behind her. It doesn’t surprise Dorothy when Charlie wraps her arms around her from behind and puts her head on Dorothy’s shoulders, and they watch as Micky D rubs his whiskers against his cage’s door.

“He’s beautiful,” Charlie says.

Dorothy smiles. “He looks really sweet,” she agrees. With a sigh, she leans into Charlie. “I wish we could adopt them all.”

Charlie squeezes her waist. “Me too.”


	62. deansamandriel + lap sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garrisonbabe asked for: Samandriel sitting in Dean's lap while they make out, coming with no warning :D (my phone capitalizes shit wtf)  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/114084366803/drabble-prompt-samandriel-sitting-in-deans-lap)

Dean’s never met anyone like Samandriel. He isn’t afraid of the darkness in Dean, and in fact he even desires it. He begs for this, and Dean gives it to him. He pulls Samandriel into his lap, chest to chest.

“You doing okay?” Dean murmurs against Samandriel’s ear. His fingertips press into his sides, firmly but not enough to bruise, not yet.

Samandriel swallows audibly, and he nods his head. “Yes,” he replies. He seeks out Dean’s lips, blindly turning to him, and Dean takes mercy on him. He sucks Samandriel’s bottom lip into his mouth and scrapes it with his teeth until Samandriel moans. “Dean!” he gasps. Dean swallows his name, digs himself into Samandriel’s skin. Samandriel loves the marks and bruises.

“I’ve got us, baby bird,” Dean promises with a kiss to the corner of Samandriel’s mouth before moving south. “I’ve got you.” His lips trail over Samandriel’s jaw, down his throat, until Samandriel’s mews become increasingly desperate. He gasps Dean’s name again, and Dean fakes that as permission to sink his teeth in.

Mouthwatering is one term Dean would use to describe Samandriel. There are many more words he could use, but all he can think of with his teeth in Samandriel’s neck and Samandriel’s blood in his mouth is amazing. Perfect. Delicious. Maybe there are more words in Dean’s head than he thought.

He’s always careful not to take too much from Samandriel, so he can’t let himself lose control of the monster inside of him. While part of him savors the taste of Samandriel, every other part monitors his heart rate, makes sure he’s okay.

Feeling Samandriel come against his stomach is still a surprise, though.


	63. rubymeg hs au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/114081314948/for-perlukafari-the-shriek-of-the-referees)

The shriek of the referee’s whistle signals the start of the third quarter, and the football is in motion. It goes from Dean’s hands to Victor’s, then Victor throws it in a perfect spiral to the only person Ruby is interested on the field: wide receiver Jo Harvelle; the first and only woman on the Lawrence Hunters football team and sort-of Ruby’s friend. As soon as she secures the ball in the crook of her elbow, Jo is off like a bat out of hell. She’s far faster than anyone on the defense, and she scores a fourth five yard touchdown without breaking a sweat.

Ruby isn’t usually one for cheering, but since Jo is one of her only friends and she often gets a lot of shit for playing a “boys” game, she stands and whoops and hollers, hands cupped around her mouth to give her cheers more amplitude.

The uproar from Jo’s score dies down, and then there’s a voice in Ruby’s ear. “Who’s the blondie?” her neighbor asks. Ruby tears her gaze off the field to meet the eyes of another high school student who is probably only a couple years older than her. Ruby’s certain she’s never seen her before; she would have remembered a face like hers, even if she only saw it in passing.

“That’s Jo,” Ruby says and feels proud. That’s her friend, who’s taken a sledgehammer to gender roles, who’s a fucking kickass person and the best player on the field.

“She’s kicking ass,” Ruby’s neighbor notes, sounding impressed.

“Hell yeah.” Ruby smirks, and because she can’t help herself, she extends a hand. “Ruby.”

The other young woman smirks back, smoky and making Ruby feel weak in the knees. “Meg.”


	64. hannahkim + at a strip club (sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/124458062048/hannah-has-no-idea-why-she-allowed-castiel-to-drag)

Hannah has no idea why she allowed Castiel to drag her to this place. It’s not her scene at all, nor is the idea of watching strangers strip and dance fun. Why did Castiel insist on such a distasteful venue for a bachelor party? Why did Hannah agree to go?

She must be at least ten years older than most of the club’s frequenters. And she’s far overdressed compared to them as well. The music pounds a headache into her skull, and she knows she’ll be in a foul mood in the morning because of it.

She tips back the last of her drink

“Hey!” a voice shouts over the music. Hannah looks around although the chances of the voice speaking to her are slim to none. Except that when she looks to her right, there’s a face smiling at her, uninhibited and happy. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Hannah says cautiously. She tries to think if she knows this woman from college or even the grocery store, but she does not. Why would she approach her then?

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun,” the stranger says, a corner of her mouth puckering sympathetically.

Hannah shakes her head. “This is not my idea of fun.”

“What brings you here then?”

“My brother wanted his bachelor party here. I can’t see why, though.”

Up on the stage, the performers rip away their clothes, leaving them naked save for slim undergarments. Hannah grimaces and turns back to her drink, only to realize it is empty.

The stranger waves down the bartender and asks for two more of what Hannah had; Hannah wonders if she’ll be disappointed that it’s nonalcoholic. “My name’s Kim.”

“Hannah Milton,” Hannah says automatically. Kim’s eyebrows shoot up.

“This definitely isn’t your scene. Last name? Wow.”

Hannah’s frown deepens. The bartender returns with their sodas, which he sets down on a pair of coasters.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Kim asks.

Hannah’s answer bubbles to her throat before she can think about the implications and consequences. She is her brother’s and his friends’ designated driver this evening, and she must make sure they are safe and don’t cause a problem at this establishment. But she’s completely uncomfortable, her skin is growing hot, and all she wants to do is follow Kim’s lead out. “God, yes.”


	65. samandestiel thingy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> totally didn't stick with the prompt, lol  
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/123255407073/samandestiel-on-a-campout-as-smutty-as-possible-if)

dean isn’t sure how it begins. one too many drinks, obviously, but between the alcohol and the next morning? he has no idea what happened. or how it happened. obviously the three of them slept together - he can feel crusty come between his thighs and on his chest, a pleasant ache in his ass, that blissful post-orgasm feeling resting in his veins.

cas’ hair is even wilder than usual, and there’s some come on his temple. curled up into his chest and softy snoring, samandriel is covered with love bites and bruises. they’re both as naked as dean, which is to say completely. dean can’t help but stare at their sleeping forms. and as he stares, his dick inexplicably grows and hardens with interest.

he holds it in his palm but doesn’t rub.

cas’ cheeks are red and creased from the pillow. dean’s seen him like this quite a few times - well, never naked - the morning after sleepovers or, nowadays, crashing after finals. they practically grew up together, have been best friends forever. dean can’t say the thought of having sex with cas never crossed his mind before. sex with alfie though? it’s sinful.

alfie’s barely out of high school. dean and cas are both ten years his senior. he’s so young - and so pretty.

he let’s out a little moan in his sleep and snuggles closer to cas. dean realizes his left leg is tangled with their legs. like a pentapus. cas’ legs are hairy, and alfie’s feel nearly hairless.

dean tries to untangle his leg from alfie’s and cas’ but the movement wakes alfie. dean’s caught wide awake with his dick in his hand. part of him expects alfie to freak out or at least show disgust or… or something. not joy. not happiness.

his smile is so beautiful.

he turns around so that he’s facing dean. “let me,” he says, holding out a soft palm. dean shuffles closer, his thighs touching alfie’s, their breaths mingled. alfie takes dean’s cock in his hand and begins to stroke.

he’s inexperienced, that’s clear, but dean feels more pleasure with him than he’s felt with his last four partners combined. alfie jerks him slow, his wrist twisting into a new angle on every upstroke. dean kisses a moan into alfie’s mouth and bucks into his grasp.

suddenly there’s a third party involved: cas has woken up, and he leans into alfie’s neck to suck more bruises onto him. dean leans back and catches cas’ heavy gaze. they don’t speak, but something passes between them. they are both okay with this, they both want this, and they want more. they want this to continue forever.

cas reaches around samandriel to fondle dean’s balls, an that’s it for dean. his orgasm leaks out of him like his sex organs are still half asleep. his come splatters alfie’s hand and his soft stomach, and alfie smiles.


	66. kiramalia + ace!kira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/127925524798/youve-gotta-be-kidding-me-kira-frowns-and)

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”  
  
Kira frowns and looks away from Malia’s piercing gaze. “It’s not a big deal,” she shrugs off with a grimace.  
  
“It kind of is,” Malia says. She thinks for a moment, then asks, “What about Scott?”  
  
“What about him?”  
  
“You didn’t sleep with him?”  
  
“No!” Kira exclaims. A heated blush rises to her cheeks. “No. It wasn’t like that.”  
  
Malia blows her hair out of her face. “Then what was it like?”  
  
“Do you really want to discuss this now?” Kira pointedly digs her nails into Malia’s bare upper arm; even though her nails are trimmed short too short to leave any lasting impressions, she feels like she’s laying a claim on Malia.  
  
“If it’s important to you, yeah. This… asexuality thing then. It’s not just because you don’t want me?”  
  
Dismay drains the blood from Kira’s face. She knows it’s just because Malia doesn’t understand, but the idea that Malia could actually think that Kira didn’t want her hurts.  
  
“No, no, no.” Tears prick at her eyes, and she bites the inside of her bottom lip. “Malia, I just… I don’t feel that way about anyone. It’s not just you. And it’s not because I don’t like you, because I do!”  
  
“You just don’t ever want to have sex?”  
  
“Well, I don’t know. It’s just not appealing to me.” How can she explain this in a way Malia will understand? “Maybe in the future…? But please don’t expect anything from me. Because I don’t know if -”  
  
“What about kissing?” Malia interrupts, her brow furrowed. “You like kissing, right?”  
  
Kira smiles. It feels like a weight has disappeared from her chest. As she leans closer to Malia’s lips, she says, “Oh, yeah.”


	67. hannah/anna + snow (horror-ish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/127613546793/annahannah-hannah-experiencing-snow-for-the)

“It’s snowing.”

Anna looks up from her laptop and finds her girlfriend staring out the window. Little white flakes fly around in the bleak sky, which in the winter Anna wouldn’t question. But in the middle of July?

She sets her laptop side and joins Hannah at the window. She looks up as much as she can to see if maybe their upstairs neighbor thought it would be funny to dump paper shreds outside or something, but then she remembers he’s not even home this week, he’s at his sister’s house celebrating the birth of her daughter.

Other possibilities for this phenomenon race through Anna’s head, because surely it isn’t actually snowing. “Are you sure it’s not ash? There have been a lot of fires lately.”

Hannah squints. “It doesn’t look like ash.”

No, it doesn’t.

Frowning, Anna pulls on Hannah’s sleeve. “Come on. Put your shoes on. We’re going outside.”

Anna slips into her Toms quickly. While Hannah laces up her sneakers, Anna tracks down her phone and opens the app store so she can download Twitter. She hardly ever uses her account, and since her phone only holds eight GBs, the app isn’t worth the space. Unless something like this happens.

Hannah opens the door, and she and Anna step out. Many of their neighbors are already on the lawn and in the road, staring up and up and up. It’s kind of creepy. An irrational fear that she and Hannah could be separated strikes her; she’s so horrified she laces her fingers up with Hannah’s, and she’s never been one to initiate public displays of affection like this.

Meanwhile, Hannah is holding her free hand up. Snowflakes catch and melt in her palm. There’s wonder in her eyes.

“You know, I’ve never seen snow before,” she says. “Not in person, at least. Only in pictures or movies. I thought it would be much colder.”

Anna trembles with fear.


	68. rubycest (sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/127595214233/could-i-prompt-a-rubyruby-fic-does-that-count-as)

“It’s like standing in front of a mirror.”

They walk around in circles, trying to get a different angle on each other, but their paces are the same and their tricks are all the same, and it’s useless. Ruby stops right where she started, plants her feet into the ground, and crosses her arms; her doppelgänger does the same.

They simultaneously lift their lips in a snarl at each other.

“Huh,” Sam says. He has success in walking completely around both of them. “Huh,” he says again.

Ruby rolls their eyes. “Exactly,” both she and her doppelgänger say. This mimicking thing is really getting on her nerves. She glares as harshly as she can, and the other does the same. And, she’s gotta say, it’s not exactly intimidating, which irritates the hell out of her, literally. Her eyes flick to black as she ups and ante. Surprisingly, her double doesn’t do the same; in fact, she flinches.

“What the fuck?” she says.

“Oh, shit,” Ruby says, her eyes losing their black tint. “Are you human?”

The other Ruby looks appalled. “What else would I be?”

“A demon.” Ruby shrugs. “A shapeshifter. Sam, have you tried all the tests?”

Sam flounders. “Well, I thought she was you!”

Ruby sighs. She thought Sam was smarter than that. “Obviously she isn’t.”

“You look  _exactly_ alike,” Sam says. “Except for the, y’know, demon thing.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Look, I’ll hit the books and see if there’s anything about doppelgängers. Why don’t you two just… sit tight.”

With a frown, he leaves both Rubys alone in the motel room. The bed is large and luscious, the windows look over the cityscape, and one of the lightbulbs is burned out. The other Ruby plops down on the bed, while she real Ruby ( _she is_  the real deal) goes for Sam’s duffle of arms.

She finds his holy water and knives quickly - he’s the most organized hunter Ruby’s ever met - and stands in front of the other Ruby. She’s watched carefully as she unscrews the holy water.

“Don’t mind if I do,” the fake Ruby says, grabbing for the flask. Ruby’s about to stop her when she realizes this is safer for herself: if fake Ruby drinks some, no harm, no foul; but if real Ruby accidentally spills on herself, she’ll be in an even nastier mood for the rest of the day.

The phony tips back the flask and drinks, but as soon as the water touches her lips she pulls back. “Water? Really? Weak.”

“Of the holy variety.” Ruby smirks, takes the flask back, and recaps it. “Hold out your arm.”

Instinctively, the other Ruby pulls her arm in closer to her body. “Why?”

“Just give me.”

When the other Ruby continues to refuse, Ruby reaches out and pulls her arm away by force. She ignores the cry of pain as she cuts a line into her doppelgänger’s flesh. Blood seeps out, a normal, human reaction.

“What the fuck?” fake Ruby exclaims, pushing away. She stumbles off the bed. “What the fuck?”

“Well, you aren’t a demon, or a shapeshifter.” Ruby wipes the knife off on the bedsheets, then drops it and the holy water back into Sam’s bag. “Maybe you really are human.”

The other Ruby eyes her warily as she advances.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck myself.”

“Oh my god, you can’t be serious.” Her eyes dart across Ruby’s face.

“You can’t tell me it’s never crossed your mind before,” Ruby says. She knows herself; of course it has. She’s only humoring her double.

“Everybody does at some point,” other Ruby says. “But….” Her gaze lingers on Ruby’s lips. “Damn. How long until Tall, Dark, and Stupid comes back?”

Ruby smirks. Now that’s more like it.


	69. castiel + body dysphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw for self harm (??) and dysphoria
> 
> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/128540519833/standing-in-front-of-the-cracked-motel-mirror-cas)

Standing in front of the cracked motel mirror, Cas pinches his cheek. A flare of pain flashes through his nerves, letting him know this feeling of dissociation is all in his head. He digs his index finger into his jaw, and another wave of pain hits him. This is his body. His.  
  
The shirt he’s wearing is too large in the abdomen but too small around the neck; he feels like the collar could choke him, and he periodically stretches it out with a finger. The pants Dean gave him are wider in the waist than he is. It’s been four weeks since his grace was stolen from him and he was made human. Sam always promises him they’ll go to the store soon to get Cas some better fitting clothes, but Cas doesn’t see the point. Even though he knows logically that this is his body and that he is the only one who occupies it, it does not feel like his, so it doesn’t matter to him what clothes he wears. It is all the same to him.  
  
He curls his fist until his fingernails bite into his palm: four points of pain blur into one, and the next thing he knows, there is blood trickling out beneath his middle finger. His blood. It’s dark red from lack of iron, and he knows it’ll take much longer than is normal for a healthy human to clot and scab. With a sigh, he rips off a wad of toilet paper from the roll and presses it to the wound.  
  
This is his pain, so it should be his body.  
  
He misses most of all how impressive he was as an angel. His wingspan stretched over half a mile. His third head intimidated even the most fearless of his garrison. He could decimate entire swaths of land or engender creation within them. And now….  
  
The toilet paper he used to staunch his wound has soaked completely. Castiel throws that wad into the toilet and rolls out a fresh one to press into his palm.  
  
Now he is human.


	70. kiramalia + horror + drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/131972095318/kira-malia-and-9-65-if-you-want-or-like)

“I don’t get it,” Malia says, screwing up her nose.

Kira looks at her gently. “It’s like that Stephen King book. It’s supposed to be a joke.”

“A joke,” Malia repeats, but she still doesn’t understand. What’s the joke in naming a car Christine? In fact, why would someone name a car at all?

Letting out a breath, Kira shrugs. She looks down and fiddles with the straps of her backpack. “Stiles thought it was funny.”

“Stiles thinks eggplants are funny.” Malia rolls her eyes, which then land on the fading red hood of Kira’s new car. It’s not a bad car, really. It needs a lot of work done, but it is Kira’s car, so, weird namer not, Malia likes it.

She waggles her eyebrows at Kira. “What about a test-drive?”

Kira tentatively and awkwardly matches Malia’s smile, and she gestures to the passenger side. “Get in.”

Kira waits until Malia has climbed into the car to do the same. The leather seat is cool and smooth on the backs of Malia’s thighs. She inhales deeply, her nostrils flaring. It smells like… rot and tobacco. She doesn’t like it.

Kira makes a face, responding to Malia’s. “I know, it smells horrible. I got an air freshener, though.” She points out a candle-shaped thing dangling from the rearview mirror. “You can roll down the windows, if you’d like.”

As Kira starts the car, Malia follows her suggestion, hoping the fresh California air would permeate the cab, but even after driving along the highway for ten minutes, she scent of cigarettes and decay endures.

The engine is a monstrous thing. It almost makes it too hard to hear Kira’s words.

“Nice, huh?” Kira says, throwing Malia a look. Malia is still bad at interpreting facial expressions, but she knows what Kira’s says and what it doesn’t. Kira’s expression is an awkward mask, hiding her fear with denial and struggling pride and optimism. She bought this car with her own money from her own job, but it freaks her out. _Christine_ freaks her out.

Malia sniffs again and scowls. The back of her neck prickles.

“No, Kira. Stop the car.”

Kira’s face is pale. She swallows thickly. Malia watches her foot swift from the gas pedal to the brake pedal, but nothing happens. The car does not slow. In fact, they’re _speeding up_.

“Kira!” Malia shouts.

Kira stammers. “I-I-I’m trying!”

Up ahead, the highway bends. Sunlight glows against the wall of trees separating the Northbound lanes from the Southbound lanes.

Kira jerks the wheel to the right, but the car is unresponsive.

Malia meets Kira’s fearful eyes and takes her hand.


	71. hannahkim + unaccustomed for maraparkers (infidelity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/139705945743/hannahkim-unaccustomed-okay-ill-stop-now)

“This is wrong,” Hannah says, but she doesn’t back away from Kim’s advances. She catches herself staring at Kim’s lips and tears her eyes away. Her cheeks burn hotly, and it’s not because of the summer sun.

“You’re just not used to it,” Kim says, grinning with closed eyes and leaning in for a kiss.

Hannah feels all of her objections melt away underneath Kim’s lips. After all, how can something that feels so good and so natural be wrong? She loves this woman, and this woman loves her back. In all of the years she’s been married, she’s never felt as excited as she is now. Even when Michael makes love to her, Hannah does feel the same passion he seems to feel toward her. But with Kim, all of the passion that is missing from Hannah’s marriage burns in her heart. So this is where it has been, not inaccessible to her, merely in the heart of another.

Their teeth clack together as the kiss deepens. Kim’s fumbling hands run through Hannah’s hair, making a mess of it, and Hannah desperately gropes at the clothes on Kim’s back. A thrill of what Hannah realizes must be arousal shivers down her spine. She gasps into Kim’s mouth, eyes closed tightly.

“Hannah,” Kim says quietly.

Kim’s arms wrap around Hannah’s neck. Hannah lowers her head onto Kim’s upper arm. The emotions warring in Hannah nearly paralyze her. She knows she cannot conceal her desires anymore, but she also cannot divorce from her husband.

“What are we going to do?” Hannah asks, knowing Kim doesn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know,” Kim says. Her fingers toy with the hair on the nape of Hannah’s neck. “I don’t know.”


	72. deancas + the amazing race for anon (mice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/139704792708/destiel-in-the-amazing-race-3)

His nose twitches hopefully as he rounds the bend, the sharp scent of cheddar in his nostrils. His whiskers brush up against the painted wood walls. His tiny feet patter on the floor. His tail drags behind him.

He turns another corner and smells something different.

He looks toward the direction of the scent and comes face to face with another rat.

“That cheese is mine,” the other rat squeaks.

“Nuh-uh!” Dean scampers away quickly, determined. He hits the other rat in the face with his tail, and whether or not that’s an accident or not Dean doesn’t even know.

He gets the cheese first.

Unseen to Dean, a scientist named Castiel jots down notes on a clipboard.


	73. samjess + anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for maraparkers who asked for jess + forgotten
> 
> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/139704130708/jessica-moore-forgotten)

“I can’t believe I forgot!” Jess exclaims to her best friend, running a hand through her wild mane of hair. “Fuck. He’s gonna -” What? Dump her? Call her names? Think she’s a bad girlfriend? Anxiety ripples through her, churning her stomach and leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

Freema smacks her bubblegum between her teeth. “You’re overreacting,” she says with a roll of her eyes, and Jess really should have thought about who she was confiding in before she spilled her relationship woes on the least interested person on the planet. “It’s just a date.”

“ _Not_ just a date,” Jess insists. “It’s our anniversary, and I totally blew it.”

Sighing, Freema says, “I’ll never understand you allos. Can’t you just apologize and move on with your lives? Sam already thinks you hung the moon; he’s not going to care about a stupid day.”

“I should have talked with Helena,” Jess mutters. “She’d commiserate with me.”

“By all means, leave.” Freema gestures to the door, but she’s got a smirk on her lips so Jess knows she’s not being unkind. “Seriously, he’s not going to give a shit. And if he does, he’s not worth getting worked up over.”

Logically, Jess knows Freema probably is right. Sam is a reasonable guy. But in her keyed-up state, she can’t help but think the worst. She’s always been a disaster in relationships, which is why she’s never had to worry about anniversaries before. It wasn’t until her mom texted her an hour ago, asking if she had any plans for the special day, that she realized today was supposed to be a milestone in hers and Sam’s relationship.

She worries her lip. “I should probably go. He’ll be wondering where I am. Fuck, I haven’t even texted him.”

“Has he texted you?”

“Umm…” She checks her phone quickly, then frowns. “No. What do you think that means?”

“I think it means you should stop bothering me with your relationship drama so I can cram for my chem exam,” Freema says with a smirk.

“Fine. I’ll see you later.”

“Be safe!” Freema calls out just before Jess closes her door. Jess turns around, gives Freema a small smile, then leaves.

+

Tentatively knocking on Sam’s dorm room door, Jess steels her breath. She doesn’t hear hear Sam moving around inside, but the next thing she knows, the door is opening, and she feels completely unprepared. All of the apologies she came up with on the walk over feel inadequate and inarticulate, but that doesn’t stop them from falling off her tongue as soon as Sam says her name.

“Jess?”

“I’m sorry!” Jess blurts. “I completely forgot. I’m shit at this kind of stuff. And I understand if you’d rather be with someone more attentive and - and romantic, and -”

“Jess,” Sam stops her firmly. Jess shuts her mouth and makes herself meet Sam’s confused eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Our anniversary,” Jess says. “It’s today.”

Sam blinks, once, twice. His eyebrows furrow further. “Our anniversary?”

“Yeah.” Jess shifts her weight. “It’s today. Or did you forget, too?”

“I didn’t realize…” Sam’s eyes lose their focus as he thinks back. “Huh. It’s really been a year?”

“Yeah,” Jess says again. “Time flies, huh?”

Sam grins, settling his hands on Jess’s hips. He pulls her close and leans down. “Yeah,” he says, and Jess has only just enough time to huff out a laugh before Sam’s lips are on hers.


	74. gordon walker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/139702403513/duty-gordon-walker)
> 
> warning for murder and decapitation

She’s his responsibility.

It’s heavy in his calloused grip. He has to hold tight so it doesn’t shake as he walks like an executioner to the shed. He tells himself it’s the cold that makes him tremble, but the lie is so thin that even he, an expert liar even to himself, doesn’t believe it.

He tried for weeks to contain her to no avail. No matter how much rope and chain and locks he uses, she still manages to get out and make the front page. _Serial Killer Among Us?_ the Westbay Independent said last week. Gordon’s not going to stick around long enough to know what the headlines’ll say this time.

His breath ghosts from his lips. He climbs the steps leading up to the shed as if his legs were made of lead.

He stares at the door, building up the courage to open it. He can hear his sister moving around inside. The exterior lock is broken again.

Gordon takes a deep breath, knocks, then opens the door.

“Gordon,” Eileen says. She flashes him a smile, sharp and beguiling, as if there’s no blood in the spaces between one tooth and the other, as if there aren’t fangs hiding beneath her gums.

Gordon’s stomach wrenches. Every muscle, every bone in his body is tight, ready to break. The hilt of his weapon cuts into his palm, almost as if it were a blade instead.

“Tell me it wasn’t you.” There is no life in Gordon’s voice. He swallows.

Eileen rolls her eyes. “You can’t keep me tied up here, Gordy,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. With her back to him, she continues, “Cattle ain’t the same as a fresh, warm-”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. Gordon advances with his blade. It slices through Eileen’s neck as if he was cutting butter. Eileen’s head rolls to the floor, and her body collapses after it.

Gordon breathes deeply. The scent of blood stains the air as a puddle of it pools beneath Eileen’s lifeless body. He stands there, looking down at the creature his sister had become, as his heartbeat slows to a normal rhythm.

His eyes eventually rise up and lock on the shovel propped up against the wall.


	75. rubyjess domestic + homophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/141338120758/its-been-a-long-hot-night-at-the-movie-theatre)

It’s been a long, hot night at the movie theatre, and all Ruby wants to do is fall asleep next to Jess. Her feet ache from standing all day, and the fake customer service smile she had to plaster on as she worked the ticket booth did some serious damage to her facial muscles. She may never smile again.

“Jess?” she calls out as she shoulders open the front door. Their cat, Nixie, meows from her perch atop the couch, but otherwise Ruby is greeted by silence. Jess usually stays up until Ruby comes home, studying her Stanford ass off even though it’s fucking summer. Concern twists in her belly, or maybe that’s indigestion from the gross ass hotdog she had during her shift.

Scratching Nixie’s head as she walks by, Ruby surveys the dining room table. All of Jess’s books are laid out, but Jess is nowhere to be seen. Ruby frowns down at Nixie. “Where is she?”

Nixie blinks and rubs her chin against the sofa.

Fucking cats. Ruby knew they should’ve adopted a dog.

Ruby drops her bag down on one of the dining chairs. There’s a half-eaten pot of macaroni and cheese on the stove and a slice of Ruby’s three-day-old birthday cake has been taken. The dishes from Jess’s dinner and dessert lay in the sink. Jess’s keys are on the rack they’d mounted above the coffee pot.

Ruby calls out again. “Jess?”

Finally, she gets a response. “In here,” Jess says, but there’s something wrong with her voice. Ruby frowns as she follows the sound to their bedroom.

“Everything okay?” Ruby asks before she’s even pushed the door all the way open, before she sees Jess’s red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Ruby’s stomach drops. “Fuck. What’s wrong?”

Ruby climbs onto the bed beside Jess. Ruby’s never been a very tactile or soothing woman, but every atom in her body longs to comfort Jess, to pull her against her chest and run her fingers through her hair. She settles with a simple hand on Jess’s knee, but Jess shies away from her.

Jess is a mess. There’s no kinder way to put it. Her nose is red and snotty. Makeup streaks down her cheeks. Her hair is in knots. Jess smiles, but there’s no happiness in it.

“My family hates me,” she says, her voice wet and breaking.

Of all the things Ruby expected Jess to say, that was not one of them. “What?”

She recognizes the look in Jess’s smile then: self-loathing.

“My mom called.”

“So?”

“She said.” Jess has to stop and swallow. “We’re not invited.”

“To your family barbecue?” Ruby guesses.

Jess nods.

“Why the fuck not?”

Jess rolls her eyes. “Because they’re fucking bigots,” she says bitterly. She rubs a hand beneath her nose, smearing her index finger with snot. Ruby tries not to let her disgust show. “I wasn’t planning on telling them. About us. But Mom was talking about setting me up with Josh, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I told her.”

“About us.”

Fresh tears squeeze from Jess’s eyes as she nods.

“Hey,” Ruby says softly. She waits until Jess is looking at her before continuing. “It’ll be okay.”

“They’re my _parents_ ,” Jess says. “I know you don’t quite understand, but they matter a lot to me. And I’m supposed to matter a lot to them, no matter who I am or who I love.”

She voice breaks on the last words. Another wave of tears falls down her face. Her shoulders shake with her sobs.

Ruby never realized her heart could break for someone else’s pain.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” This time, when Ruby reaches for Jess, Jess doesn’t move. Ruby pulls Jess in by the arm until her head is cushioned by Ruby’s breasts. Jess’s tears saturate her uniform, but she doesn’t care. She strokes Jess’s long hair with one hand while the other remains still on her back. “You don’t need them.”

Jess shakes her head. “I do.”

“No, you don’t.” Jess is right: Ruby doesn’t understand her pain. Ruby never had parents to look up to, who cared for her. And she doesn’t have the empathy that Jess needs now. “You’ve been on your own for how many years now?”

Jess shakes her head again and mumbles, “I’m not alone. I have you.”

Ruby doesn’t know what to say. She squeezes Jess tighter against her, her heart swelling as much as it’s breaking.

“Look,” Ruby says at last. “Jess, I love you.”

They aren’t words she’s ever understood before. They aren’t words she’s ever said before to another human being. But they feel right. They feel true.

Jess sniffs. “Thanks. I love you, too.”

A rush of warmth fills Ruby. She bends down to kiss the crown of Jess’s head.

“You’ll be fine,” Ruby says. “It’ll be all right.”


	76. deancas + fantasy assassin + grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [anonymous asked on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/141526199223/destiel-fantasy-assassin-au-gray-making-it): "Destiel + fantasy assassin AU + gray ((making it really challenging for you -- good luck! I know you can do it!))"

Castiel breathes in one last breath before drawing back his bow. The line of the arrow points in the princess’s direction; he just has to make minute adjustments to make sure the arrow shoots through her heart.

Princess Moore is alone she takes in the view from her balcony. The kingdom she is meant to preside over stretches out before her, ending far beyond the horizon. She would be the most powerful woman once she marries, but it’s Castiel’s job to make sure she doesn’t see that day.

He doesn’t derive any pleasure in killing her, except that the payment for doing so will stave off his hunger, will keep him from homelessness for years. This is just a job.

As he lines up and gets ready to release the string, Princess Moore turns around. Her smile widens as she moves to greet the person who interrupted her daydreaming.

With a frown, Castiel redirects his arrow to the ground as he relaxes the string. The man joining Princess Moore has his back turned to Castiel, but despite that, and despite the distance, Castiel recognizes the frame, although he cannot put a name to it.

Castiel looks down to search his rucksack for his eyepiece. Once he finds it, he removes it from its protective pouch and places it before his right eye, closing the left. The magnifying properties of the eyepiece disorient him, but eventually he acclimatizes to it. He puts the balcony in his sight.

Princess Moore laughs, grabbing the hand of her guest. She pulls him closer to the edge of the balcony, to his clear protest. The man attempts to pull away from Princess Moore, and that’s when Castiel catches his profile.

_Dean._

How did he not recognize him sooner? He lowers his eyepiece and watches with a naked eye as Princess Moore is successful in bringing Dean to the ledge. Dean, who hates heights, who makes no secret his distaste for the royal family, who Castiel loves.

A sickening thought enters Castiel’s mind.

_Is he the man Princess Moore has chosen as her husband?_

His stomach growls, but Castiel cannot carry out the one task he knows will bring food to him. If Princess Moore makes Dean happy, then Castiel will not compromise his happiness, even at his own detriment.

He un-nocks his arrow from the bow, fingers brushing along the grey fletchings, then slides the arrow into the quiver. He throws the quiver and bow over his shoulder.

He has no intent on staying here any longer.


	77. samchuck + space opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which i accidentally write samchuck instead of caschuck and willfully ignore whatever space opera actually means (sorry dd). [tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/141529886983/in-which-i-accidentally-write-samchuck-instead-of)

He has the most beautiful voice Chuck’s ever heard.  
  
He stands out from the other vocalists, not only because he’s tall but because he’s the only human in it. Accompanying him are a Domeran and a Voolcid. They don’t hold Chuck’s attention as easily, though. He never was very into inter-species relationships.  
  
But the tall one. His mighty sideburns cut across his cheeks, and as his mouth forms a perfect O, they seem to dance. Fuck, his mouth is huge. Fuck. He could probably -  
  
He shakes himself out of his fantasies as the platform performers fall silent. Applause rings out from the other beings who stopped to listen to the street opera. As the three vocalists bow and a fourth comes around with a hat to collect money, Chuck realizes he should clap too. He does so, probably way too enthusiastically.  
  
When the collector reaches Chuck, Chuck stares at him - he’s human and not unhandsome - for several long moments.  
  
“Gonna put out, pal?” the collector asks, shaking the hat. Coins clank together inside. “I saw the way you were looking at them. Come on.”  
  
With an apologetic crease of his brow, Chuck rummages through his pockets until he comes up with a few coins and a lot of lint.  
  
“Here you go,” he says. “Sorry.”  
  
“No worries, buddy. Have a good day.”  
  
He claps Chuck on the back before moving on.  
  
The crowd has dispersed now that the show is over, but Chuck has a feeling the opera will start up all over again. Maybe with a new performance. After all, one performance cannot sustain four people. Platform performers like them would have to do multiple performances every day.  
  
For now they are taking a water break. The Domeran and Voolcid are engaged in conversation, while the human watches the collector.  
  
Chuck doesn’t realize he’s walking toward him until their feet are only a meter apart.  
  
He stops.  
  
“Um,” he says, at a loss. Wow, this guy is tall. It almost hurts Chuck’s neck to look up at him. He takes a step back, but that doesn’t help much. “Good - good job.”  
  
The man smiles and holds out his hand. Chuck reaches for it, grabs it, and shakes it. The tall man’s firm grip squeezes all coherent thought out of Chuck’s brain.  
  
The tall guy says some words, and then says, “I’m Sam.”  
  
“Chuck,” Chuck says and realizes he’s still shaking Sam’s hand.


	78. bela talbot + her cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on tumblr

Around her neck hangs the only connection between Bertha Hunting and the spirit world. Once Bela drops it into a fire, that connection will disappear, and so will Bertha Hunting from this world.

But she’s not ready to lay Bertha’s spirit to rest quite yet. Bertha is a surprisingly docile ghost, so Bela doesn’t expect her to stir up much trouble when she wears her necklace in public.

They say cats can sense the supernatural. Bela intends to test that theory.

She’s currently staying in a hotel outside of Farmington, New Mexico. The nearest animal shelter is only a couple miles away. She drives her Mustang over.

At the Farmington Animal Shelter, Bela easily finds the room designated for cats. There are several other people milling around: some of them wear official Farmington Animal Shelter volunteer shirts, while the rest are plain-clothed members of the public, like herself.

She approaches the closest kennel. The cat inside is curled up in a ball and fast asleep. Bela stares at the rise and fall of the feline’s flank as she fidgets with Bertha Hunting’s necklace. The cat doesn’t so much as twitch a whisker.

From the corner of her eye, she spies one of the volunteers approaching her. “Looking for kitties today?” the tall, older man asks.

Bela presses a smile to her lips. “I’m looking.”

“See any that catch your eye?”

“No, but I’ve only just got here.” She doesn’t really mean to be unkind, but she’s not here to talk with people with bad combovers. She smirks at him and steps to her right to peer into the next kennel. The man hangs out behind her.

The cats in the second and third kennels she peers into are both hiding in their covered litterbox area. Bela’s about to call her hypothesis a bust when she approaches the fourth kennel. The cat inside is a slender, chocolate point Siamese. He hisses at her and claws at the plastic barrier between them.

Interesting.

Bela knows a reputable shelter would never send an animal home with someone it’s blatantly antagonistic to, and she knows how to play a crowd. She pretends to get a call and steps out of the room. She puts Bertha’s necklace in her car, then returns to the chocolate point Siamese. This time, when Bela approaches his kennel, he daintily sniffs the air, then rubs his whiskers against the door.

Bingo.


	79. haeljo + roadhouse au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/141939796453/she-doesnt-know-how-jo-does-it-not-even-halfway)

She doesn’t know how Jo does it.

Not even halfway through her shift, and Hael feels like killing half her customers. It’s not even because they do anything wrong; it’s just that the introvert in her wants to lash out at anyone who dares to speak to her.

She feels drained. All she wants to do is lock herself in the freezer until her shift ends, until her toes succumb to frostbite. She glances longingly at the freezer door, her hold on reality momentarily slipping from her as she daydreams.

“Hey, you okay?”

Hael startles out of her fantasy and looks up at the person who interrupted her. It’s Jo; she wears concern on her brow and in the pout of her lips. Hael’s ears heat up.

“Yeah, sorry.” Hael closes her eyes and shakes her head. When she opens her eyes again, Jo is still standing in front of her, serving plate held against her hip. Hael summons up a smile. “I’m not used to working long shifts.”

Jo nods. “Ah. That’ll do it. How ‘bout I whip you up -”

The rest of Jo’s words are lost in a kitchen cacophony. Hael’s eyes widen as the blood drains from her face and the air rushes out of her lungs.

“Whip me?” she squeaks.

“Whip you up a cup of coffee,” Jo says, not seeming to realize what Hael heard until a second later. “Oh my god! No! No. I’m not - I’m not into - that kind of stuff.”

“Oh.” Hael blinks. She takes in a deep breath, and her head stops spinning. Her eyes rove Jo’s face, noticing the furious blush on her cheeks that she tries to hide behind the curtain of her blonde hair. “That’s - I mean, even if you were...” Her gaze inadvertently settles on Jo’s slightly curled lips, then snaps right back to meet her eyes when she realizes what she’s doing.

“Or maybe we can go out for coffee sometime?” Jo suggests.

Hael finds herself smiling. “Can’t we do both?”

“Yeah,” Jo says, smiling growing wider. “Yeah, I’d like that.”


	80. charliehannah + genderfluid!hannah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/146828120613/i-have-kind-of-a-specific-kink-maybe-the-spn)

Charlie thought it would be different somehow, or maybe that she’d feel different when push comes to shove. After all, having sex with an angel isn’t an everyday occurrence. Maybe she just committed a cardinal sin and her soul would be forever damned. Or maybe having angel sex means you’ve been extra good this year.

Or maybe it means nothing at all. Just two entities having sex.

Which sounds hella weird in a cosmic sort of way, but that’s just how one would explain Hannah.

Charlie still feels warm but awkward from the last - second - orgasm Hannah coaxed out of her. Hannah has been very keen on pleasuring Charlie rather than themself, and now the scales feel unbalanced.

She pushes herself up to her elbows, startling Hannah out of their thoughts.

“Charlie?” Hannah says with a confused furrow in their brow.

“I feel bad,” Charlie explains. “I know you say you’re okay, but I don’t like not returning the favor.”

Hannah’s mouth presses into a line and puckers to the side. “It’s different for me. We aren’t built the same, Charlie.”

“Then show me.” Charlie stares into Hannah’s brilliant blue eyes, her enthusiasm plain and all for Hannah. Charlie lays her hand on top of theirs. “I don’t care if you have tentacles down there, or nothing at all. I like you a lot, and I just want to make you feel good.”

Hannah smiles wistfully. “I don’t feel sexual arousal in this vessel.”

Charlie’s gaze trails down. Her face flares hot with guilt. “Oh.”

“That’s not to say I don’t enjoy making you orgasm,” Hannah continues. “I find that… fascinating.”

“That’s good to know, at least.”

Hannah’s smile grows, and they pull Charlie to their side, their arm cushioning Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie relaxes in their hold.

“I wish I could show you my trueform,” Hannah murmurs. Charlie wonders if they realize their fingers are grazing up and down Charlie’s arm. It feels like an unconscious movement, especially as Hannah’s mind is elsewhere. “The way angels procreate is very similar to how humans do, although it’s not as inventive.”

“What would you do?” Charlie’s voice is low, feels like it’s coming from deep in her throat. She meets Hannah’s eyes moments before their lips come together in a tender, rising kiss.

Hannah has said they enjoy this very much. Charlie’s not impartial to it at all either. Hannah’s lips are always cool and smooth, and while Charlie typically rushes head-first into things, with just a tilt of their head Hannah teaches Charlie how to slow down.

“What would you want me to do? If I could be with you?”

Hannah’s breath hitches against Charlie’s lips.

“I would… want you next to me.” The hand that had been drawing invisible shapes against Charlie’s arms cups around the back of her neck, pulling Charlie in closer. “And we would do this.”

“Just kiss?” Charlie repeats.

“Just kiss,” Hannah says. A rush of excitement tingles through Charlie’s spine as Hannah’s hands continue to roam. Between kisses, Hannah continues, “This is how grace is shared. The merging of grace is akin to your orgasms.”

Their hot breaths mingle. Charlie thinks about her soul and wonders if Hannah can taste it on her lips.

“So you like kissing,” Charlie concludes with realization.

She feels Hannah’s grin on her cheeks. “I like kissing.”


	81. jessjo + meg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for daniblondy [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/143968996643/for-daniblondy-shes-not-like-the-rest-jess)

“She’s not like the rest,” Jess insists. Jo’s skeptical expression follows Jess as she walks from one end of the room to the other to water their plants. “She’s not, I swear!”

“Yeah, that’s what you said about Meg.”

Jess rolls her eyes. “You’re not getting over that one, are you.”

“She tied me up to a keg!” Jo exclaims. Yeah, it’s been a few months, but she’s never forgetting how Meg weaseled her way into their open relationship just to steal basically all of the Roadhouse’s finances.

“At least meet her,” Jess says, throwing an imploring look over her shoulder. “One coffee date - that’s it.”

Jo crosses her arms over her chest. “’S long as she’s paying.”

Jess’ lips pout as she thinks over Jo’s request, as if she knows this Ruby person’s personal finances off the top of her head. “I can probably convince her to cover our bill,” she says after a few moments of considering. She’s, like, some CEO’s kept girl, but without being a kept girl? I don’t know. The situation is weird.”

“Hm.”

“And I swear, she’s not as kinky as Meg, not by a long shot. I mean, she has this thing about blood, but…”

Jo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Blood?”

Jess shrugs, blasé. “She’d probably be down with going down when you’re on your period.”

“That’s just…”

“It’s not _that_ weird. Menstrual blood is supposed to be super clean, or something. A baby has to grow in that shit, you know.”

“But still,” Jo says. “To each her own, I guess, but… fuck. I’m not opposed to getting my hands dirty, but that’s a whole other level.”

“You shouldn’t knock it ’til you try it.” Jess grins and winks. Jo’s brain momentarily short-circuits with the suggested image of Jess between another woman’s legs, mouth bloody and eyes wild. She hears the rush of her own pulse in her ears, and she blinks as reality breaks through the smoke of her fantasy. Jess is still standing in front of Jo, grin as wicked as ever.

“Jess,” Jo tries, but, embarrassingly, her voice cracks.

Jess’ grin grows even wider as she sashays away to finish watering their begonia tubers.


	82. michelle tilghman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/142454653556/monsters-are-real-werewolves-too-it-takes-a-long)

Monsters are real. Werewolves too.

It takes a long time for her to reconcile the world as she knew it growing up with the one that almost killed her less than twenty four hours ago. She sits, staring blankly at a painting hanging on the wall of a bed and breakfast, trying to piece everything together.

The werewolves looked like people. They _were_ people. If Michelle saw them on the street, she never would’ve thought they were anything but human. What else could they be?

Her blood goes cold. How many monsters has she passed by unknowingly? How many vampires have gotten close enough to smell her? How many shape shifters has she bumped into by accident?

She reminds herself she needs to breathe, but the fresh inhale of oxygen doesn’t help her spinning head.

There’s a knock on the door. Michelle jumps.

“Michelle?” the voice on the other side asks. It’s the grandfatherly owner of the bed and breakfast, who is allowing Michelle to stay free of charge for up to a week. She exhales as much of the tension in her body as possible.

“Yes?”

“Dinner’s ready whenever you want it,” the man replies. Michelle feels bad for not remembering his name. He really is a nice man. “I hope you like salmon.”

She’s not sure the idea of dinner appeals, but she hums for the old man’s benefit, although on second thought, he probably can’t hear her.

“Thanks,” she says, feeling awkward. She picks at the fraying edge of one of the bandages on her arm. “I’ll be right down.”

The man chuckles. “Take your time, dear,” he says, and then the sound of his footsteps retreat. Michelle breathes.


	83. sarahjenna + coffee shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/141530618358/jenna-and-sarah-coffee-shop-au-please-d)

“You didn’t call.”

Sarah blinks at the foamy surface of her latte. It’s gone cold a while now, but she still keeps her hands wrapped around the mug like it’ll offer her warmth and comfort in the face of whatever… this… is.

Steeling her resolve, she looks up at Jenna’s torn expression. Her mouth is tight, and her eyes shimmer with tears. Sarah briefly flits her eyes beyond Jenna, at the rest of the coffee shop’s customers, but they’re all absorbed in their own cups of coffee, their own crossword puzzles.

Sarah sighs and gestures for Jenna to take the seat opposite her; Jenna does, but her movements are stilted.

“I don’t understand,” Jenna says, resting her forearms on the table. “I thought-” She stops herself from saying anything more, but Sarah knows what’s unsaid. _I thought we were in love._

“I’m sorry.” Sarah swallows the lump in her throat. It’s her fault things fell apart - hell, she forced their relationship to fall apart, because that’s what she does: she falls in love with beautiful women, and then she invents ways to fuck it all up because she’s afraid of commitment, afraid of herself, afraid of the future.

Even though Jenna is kind, and strong, and everything Sarah could ever want in a significant other, she can’t help fucking it up.

Her own unshed tears make everything swim. She blinks quickly to get rid of them, but the sight of Jenna is still watery.

“I’m scared,” Sarah says in a small voice.

She doesn’t see Jenna’s hand move, but she feels it uncurl her own from the latte mug and squeeze.

“Me, too,” Jenna whispers. “But we can make this work. I want this to work.”

Sarah nods. God, she wants this to work, too. She can imagine her marrying Jenna, having a couple kids, going to goddamn PTA meetings. It scares her, but she wants these things.

She squeezes Jenna’s hand back.


	84. samjess + late night studies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/140216860788/samjess-late-night-studies)

there’s a wrinkle in jess’s brow. sam can’t stop staring at it.

“so if something is nondisjuncted then it’s chromosomes are all fucked up?”

sam chuckles. “more or less. but i don’t think nondisjuncted is a word.”

jess shrugs. her eyes fall to the study guide dr turner handed out, then to the notes sam took five classes ago on the mechanisms of chromosomal alterations. she reads aloud: “nondisjunction: when one or more chromosomal pairs fail to separate in either meiosis or mitosis.”

“and what does that lead to?”

jess’s finger skims the page. “aneuploidy or polyploidy.”

“wow. you even said them correctly.”

to be fair, sam kind of deserves the glare and punch to the shoulder jess gives him. “fuck off,” she says, her tone only half serious.

jess is a smart woman. she won a full ride to stanford by being smarter than everyone else in basically everything. but even she has academic failings. namely, biology.

“everything’s just so small!” she lamented to sam once. “i can’t visualize it at all!”

and sam gets that - sometimes he struggles to grasp the material, too - but jess is in deep trouble. if she doesn’t get at least 90% on this test, her gpa could drop to 3.8. sam is not about to let that happen.

“tell me what aneuploidy means,” sam requests. “no looking at the paper.”

jess’s expression turns mildly dismayed, then intensely thoughtful as she puzzles it out. “well, poly means many, so polyploidy has to be the nondisjunction with more than two fucked up chromosomes. so aneuploidy had to be the other one.”

“which is?”

jess gives him a long suffering look. “one more or one less?”

sam beams, proud of his ‘student.’ he wonders if he can convince her that roleplaying will increase her recall, so next time she asks him over for a study session, he can spank her with a ruler and have her give him an apple. he saw it on the internet a few times after one too many of dean’s Professor Winchester jokes, sue him. “good. so what happens with aneuploid people?”

“stuff like down’s syndrome, right?” jess guesses. sam nods and looks at her expectantly. there’s one more condition jess needs to know. “fuck. um. it’s one of the sex linked ones, isn’t it? because they’re missing a second chromosome.” sam nods again. “fuck.” jess thinks for another minute. “turner’s syndrome,” she says at last. “they’re XO, or whatever.”

sam rolls his eyes.


	85. belajo + tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/139938776003/belajo-tears)

This isn’t pretty crying. No single, crystalline tear falls down her cheek. Instead, a whole torrent of them fall, and she wails loudly, too far gone to care what her observers think of her. She cannot hold it in.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says. She says it again. Her voice breaks each time.

Her head falls into her glistening, wet hands.

“It’s okay,” Bela hushes. She rubs her back and leans in closer. “Take your time.”

From the other side of the room, Jo rolls her eyes impatiently and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Bells, we don’t have a lot of time here,” Jo says, raising her eyebrows sharply. “We need to know where we can find Azazel. Now.”

The girl hiccups, looking up. “What - what is this? Good cop, bad cop?” She chokes on the tears in her throat, and Bela gives Jo a cold stare as the onslaught of tears continues with renewed vigor. “I told you: I don’t know. I don’t know anything! I’m just - I’m just a - I’m just his whore!”

She bawls into her hands.

“Fuck,” Jo mutters under her breath. “Fucking hell.”

“Play nice, Harvelle,” Bela says with a painted mask of a smile. “Ginger will tell us when she’s ready. Let her calm down.”

“My mom is _out there_ ,” Jo reminds her, and Bela snaps her jaw shut. The temper simmering in her gut is no match to the angered distress that boils out of Jo. Bela has always had a slow burn, while Jo is more of a short fuse, especially when it comes to the ones she loves most. “You’re the only one who can help us, Ginger. Speak up!”

Jo only succeeds in making Ginger cry even louder.

Bela gives Jo a hard look. “I think you need to leave, Harvelle,” she says steely. Captain Campbell should’ve known better than to allow Jo to continue this case when they realized how close to her family it is. The man they’re looking for is suspected to have murdered Jo’s father years ago, and now her mother has gone missing, last seen in security footage chatting with a man who bears a striking resemblance to the drug lord known as Azazel.

Jo’s eyes are glistening. She shakes her head, more out of dismay than a denial of Bela’s command. She doesn’t leave, though; she remains in the interrogation room, in the corner, biting at her fingernails, as Bela continues to gently coax the information they need out of Ginger.

It takes over an hour, but they finally learn the last hotel Ginger knows Azazel to have checked into: The Cold Oak Inn.

Sliding into Bela’s squad car, Bela takes a moment to look at Jo, whose jaw is set determinedly, whose eyes are still wet with unshed tears.

“We’ll find her,” Bela says, grabbing Jo’s clammy hand with hers. It’s the most sentimental gesture she’ll ever allow herself to perform, except maybe kissing Jo deeply before jerking the car into drive and peeling out of the parking lot, sirens blaring.


	86. belajo + cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/139774439753/belajo-cuddling)

Bela usually isn’t one for cuddling, would rather each of them stick to their own side of the bed, but tonight she indulges Jo and lets her come so close they might as well be one. Jo needs this, for some weird reason. The validation of having Bela squeezed against her chest is something she needs.

How can this even be comfortable for Jo? Bela is laying on one of her arms, and Bela’s hair in her face has got to be annoying as all hell.

Bela squirms, and Jo’s grip around her tightens even further.

“You okay?” Jo asks softly.

“Yeah,” Bela says. She brings up a hand to rub at Jo’s right arm soothingly. Or at least she hopes it comes across as soothing. “You?”

Jo hums. “Yeah, I’m getting there.”

She worms even closer to Bela, which Bela didn’t think was even possible. Their tangled legs clunk together.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jo whispers and plants a kiss to the nape of Bela’s neck.


	87. belajo + tickling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon [on tumblr](http://holyhael.tumblr.com/post/139709705958/belajo-tickling)

Sightings of the creature had been reported throughout Appalachia, prompting Bela and Jo to drive down from Portland, Maine to investigate. They figured out the location of the creature’s nest, and at dusk, they set off for the foothills of the Alleghenies.

“If it touches me, I won’t forgive you,” Bela sniffs, and Jo has to laugh at the mental image of the dignified Bela Talbot rolling on the ground, helpless as the monster tickles her to death. But then she sobers. To death is literal in this case. Not that funny, then.

It’s taller and much wider than Bela and Jo combined. It has the head of a cat, the tail of a lemur, and the body of a slender bear. Where a normal bear would have claws, this thing has something akin to hairy, human fingers. It’s hunched over the body of its latest victim, but when it hears Bela and Jo approach, it straightens up to its full height, at least as tall as the two women combined.

“Fuck,” Jo mutters under her breath. The reports had said the creature was tall, but she thought the eyewitnesses had been exaggerating. After all, a ten foot monster doesn’t have to equal ten feet. Except in this case it does.

This is going to be a lot harder than Jo thought.

She quickly glances at Bela and remembers how Bela didn’t want to tag along with Jo at all. But Jo had wheedled and whined and teased until she caved, then fucked Bela good and speechless with their new toy.

A tingle of trepidation goes down Jo’s spine, chills her veins. If Bela gets hurt…

But the tickle monster isn’t advancing on Bela; it’s got Jo locked in its wicked sights, and Jo is too wrapped up in her anxiety to move immediately.

“Jo!” Jo hears Bela shout as the tickle monster pounces on her. Jo yelps and helplessly stabs the air with the witch hazel spear that will purportedly kill this thing dead. But as the tickle monster’s magic winds beneath her skin, she loses the will, the energy to fight, and she succumbs to its ferocious tickling.

She screams and laughs at the same time, and she gasps Bela’s name, terrified and titillated.

Suddenly, it stops. Jo blinks once, twice, then realizes the monster is going to fall on top of her. She rolls out of the way just in time and stares at its lifeless body. Bela’s witch hazel spear sticks out from its rear end.

“Fuck,” Jo says, breathless. She runs a hand through her hair and looks up to meet Bela’s unamused eyes. But the unamusement is just a mask; Jo knows Bela well enough to see the relief hidden beneath.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” Bela says and extends a hand for Jo to take. Jo does, and Bela hauls her ass off the forest floor. “You okay?”

“Peachy.” Jo offers a smile. Bela rolls her eyes.

“Just tell me we don’t have to dig a grave for that thing,” Bela says, and Jo pales. Shit. She hadn’t thought about that.

“Fuck,” she says, and Bela snorts.


End file.
